


The Dread Pirate Roberts

by Frogman128



Category: Princess Bride (1987), The Princess Bride
Genre: Action/Adventure, Fantasy, Gen, Pirates, Post-Canon, Sequel, Story within a Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:20:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 66,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21794425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frogman128/pseuds/Frogman128
Summary: The story of a father writing a fanfiction of his son's favorite story.And receiving commentary as he tells it to him.
Comments: 28
Kudos: 18





	1. Prologue: The Storm

**Prologue: The Storm **

Sudden summer rains are quite commonplace and always seem to take a backseat in the collective mind; today was no different. Lightning flashed and thunder roared throughout the city, followed by a heavy downpour that nearly flooded the streets.

However, there was a man ignorant to all of this, a man writing from the comfort of his modest, suburban home, located near the outskirts of the city. He focused solely on the source of illumination in front of him, paying no mind to the rumbling thunderstorm outside. His computer monitor contrasted with the darkness that overcame an otherwise idyllic summer afternoon, and he accompanied the storm in an almost unconscious way as he wrote.

The sound of typing filled the room, despite the overpowering presence of the rain, but eventually, the writing came to a halt and the man let out a sigh of near resignation. Thankfully, as he had countless times before, he fought his block valiantly. He took several sips from his trusty coffee mug and began drafting, trimming and editing. Slowly, but surely, his imagination materialized on the screen.

He stared at the results with pride. So much so, that he allowed himself a tiny reward for his breakthrough and began to narrate the story aloud, if only to get an idea of how it sounded outside of his head (as well as practicing before telling it to his son tomorrow night). Words became voice, voice became thoughts and they all brought the man to a faraway place in a distant time.

* * *

A lonesome ship navigated through the middle of the dark open seas, wailed on by an incessant barrage of rain and thunder. The ship's crew ran about, trying to fight back the unforgiving winds of the storm, but there was one aboard who could have cared less about Mother Nature's whims and that was the Captain of the ship himself, locked up in his chambers, ignorant to the world around him.

The aged pirate Captain sat on his old wooden table, repeatedly tapping it with his finger. He grumbled in frustration as he held a quill pen over a sheet of yellowish paper, dripping most of its ink over the parchment. His eyes were tightly shut and his brows furrowed deep in thought, for he found no the words to put on the page.

After a moment of silence, the Captain's eyes shot wide open and he slammed his fist on the table. The creaking table shook and tumbled, and one of the many leftover bottles of rum resting over it fell and crashed, complementing the crackling thunder outside.

"…What am I doing?" sighed the Captain to no one but himself, closing his eyes once more. The hammering of the raindrops grew louder, and yet, the man's troubled expression began to fade, as if the tempest were but a lullaby.

His moment of solitude was short lived however, for the typhoon unleashed a resounding roar of thunder. The Captain attempted to ignore the cacophony outside, but was suddenly interrupted when a crushing impact shook the entire vessel, throwing him off his chair. Moments after he rose from the wooden floor, someone slammed the door open, the impact reverberating around the room.

"Captain, please, help us!" the young man standing by the door gasped, his face drenched and frozen with dread.

The Captain ran, following his comrade outside without a word, only to find a devastating blow on the ship's hull. Despite the wall of water hampering both hearing and sight he found no trouble locating the source of their predicament. A brightly colored enemy ship was proudly bearing its flag, shining through the downpour as it prepared to launch another barrage of iron and fire.

"Give chase men! These royal dogs won't take us down without a fight!" shouted the Captain as he raised his sword, raising the morale of his crewmates, though his own remained unchanged.

With a sharp turn, the pirate ship managed to narrowly avoid part of the deadly barrage of cannon fire, but the damage was already done and spreading. The vessel trudged on, taking the air of a vengeful apparition, one trying to claw its way to the sweet release of revenge as it came closer to the enemy ship.

Curiously enough, rather than trying to take advantage of its position or keep distance, the opposing vessel rose up to the challenge, performing a sharp turn of its own to meet the dying husk head on.

"Stand your ground men! Show them your sea legs!" cried the Captain, holding onto the ship's mast, bracing for the impact.

The sound of thunder could only vaguely mask the collision of the two vessels. Both hulls crashed into one another, sending splintering bits of wood flying into the air. Shouts that barely registered as whispers under the raging typhoon accompanied the sounds of colliding steel. It was a skirmish, alike many the Captain had experienced in the past, but he felt indifferent about it; gone was the fire in his heart.

A flash of lightning struck over the maritime battlefield and before his eyes could react, the Captain's body moved on its own, deflecting an incoming slash as fast as the bolt itself. It was an instinct not yet dulled by the years, nor his indifference. Both warriors stood in front of one another, stances ready, demonstrating more than mere style and technique.

The fiery glow of his enemy's eyes surprised the Captain. It broke through the watery mists like a hot knife through butter. For the fraction of a second, the Captain felt the rush of battle come to him once more like in the days of old. He knew he had to reply to such a petition, for it took no words to tell.

A quick succession of clashes followed. There were no wasted movements, every effort calculated. Sparks from the collision of blades flew and vanished, momentary spectators to this clash of convictions.

One thing became clear for the Captain as the battle continued however, there was, on top of his opponent's aura of respect, a knowing look, one that told him everything. To say that the warrior before him had studied his abilities would have been a shallow understatement. There was so much more, a thirst for battle, an indomitable will, an eternal challenge to better one's self.

"This cannot be your best Dread Pirate! Prove me wrong!" the younger swordsman demanded, unleashing a flurry of slashes and thrusts at the Captain.

"I'm afraid this is as good as it gets!" replied the Captain in accord with his own set of near perfect parries. This succession of savage demands and swift responses would not last for long however. As quickly as it had returned, the Captain's fighting spirit began to wane, consuming itself like the waves tearing at his dying ship.

The Captain's adversary rushed in, using his superior size and agility, never once letting up the onslaught. Each parry from the Captain became more and more desperate as the duel went on. The battle was taking its toll on the weary Captain and he could no longer respond to his opponent's strikes with the same ferocity. His will was fading, and both swordsmen knew it.

A flash of light shortly blinded both warriors; and then, a searing pain coursed through the Captain's right cheek. He felt it not only on his face but also in his soul and pride. It would soon become another scar to carry; another painful memory, one he did not wish to carry in the slightest.

Still, rage did not come to him, only the crushing sense of defeat. With his offense non-existent and his defense faltering, the end was certain. It was then that another slash cut through his right shoulder, marking the end of their short-lived battle. The Captain's sword dropped to the floor and the blade might as well have broken in two.

Droplets of blood mixed with the rainwater, covering the floor beneath his knees. The storm no longer deafened his ears; not even the rumbling of thunder fazed his body. He was uncaring to the world around him, his fresh wounds, and the culprit of his loss.

The voice of the victor broke the Captain out of his trance, though he did not show it.

"I will not strike down a man without weapons," said the victor with much disappointment, as he sheathed his blade. "You shall be taken prisoner once we reach the mainland." There was a sense of finality in the man's words, though they fell upon deaf ears.

No response came from the Captain. His head hung low, indifferent to all around him. A deep silence fell between the two warriors, both unwilling to move. It took a cry of help from one of the victor's men to snap them both back into reality.

"Commander! Commander Gudmand! Look!" shouted one of his subordinates in absolute terror, pointing northward of the collided vessels.

The storm itself seemed to reply once Gudmand turned his head, launching yet another bolt of lightning dangerously close to the vessels. It illuminated the darkened sea for a mere moment, but that was more than enough. A colossal waterspout rose above, no more than a couple of leagues away, and it was coming for them.

Terror overthrew whatever semblance of order remained in the skirmish. Some jumped off the ship in a futile attempt to save themselves from the colossal vortex, while others awaited its inevitable arrival. Amongst the latter, was the defeated pirate Captain. Picking up his sword and sheathing it with his bloodied right hand, the man laid down and closed his eyes, waiting for the final moment to come. Peace marked his features as the ship began sinking further into the depths.

Chaos and pain became void as the column of water sank what was left of both ships and crews, sinking it all into the dark blue depths with its monstrous strength. There had been no need for the Captain to waste words nor ink, for the ocean itself washed away his every trouble.

The pushing and pulling of the waves lulled the Captain into a sense of tranquility, despite their vicious exterior. Memories flooded him as the current swept him, memories of promise, revenge, camaraderie and times gone by. They wrote a sad but earnest smile on his face. And then, just for a moment, he was finally at peace.


	2. Chapter 1: Haul

** Chapter 1: Haul **

The chilling breeze accompanied the morning sun in the small port city of Fitcherdorf. Early bird anglers and their sons left their homes and went the port, bringing buckets of chum and readying their nets and boats. All the while, their wives and mothers prayed for their wellbeing from the boardwalk, for storms were commonplace during the season and tragedy could always strike when most unexpected.

From afar, a young boy sat and stared at the departure of the fishermen, his gaze dark-eyed and dispassionate. The boy sat on his own in the cold ground, playing with a stick he had picked from the ground on his way to the port. He remained there until the last vessel disappeared into the horizon.

After a moment, the boy stood up and proceeded with his own routine, one he had to adopt for quite some time now. With each puppet-like step, the boy approached the edges of the port town and headed for the rocky eastern cli-

* * *

“Dad…Inigo’s not dead is he?” a young boy said, interrupting his father’s narration.

The father, who sat by the side of the boy’s bed, holding a couple of freshly printed sheets of paper, stared at his son. “Of course he’s not,” he replied in a surprised manner. His son stared back, dumbfounded.

“I mean, I’m pretty sure he can’t breathe underwater,” said the boy.

The father laughed. “Why would I kill off the only remaining character of the original story? That makes no sense!” replied the man, exaggeratedly gesturing as if it were an inconceivable thought.

“So he’s alive?” the boy continued to question, furrowing his brows in an attempt to draw out an answer from his amused father.

“You’ll see soon enough,” said the man, a mocking undertone glazing his words. The boy harrumphed and fell silent upon hearing his father’s cryptic response, allowing the man to return to his narration once more.

* * *

The rocky east-side beaches of Fitcherdorf had never been anything special to the boy ever since he first laid his eyes on them. He much preferred to leave right away on fishing trips with his father, in order to be the first ones catching the morning haul.

They had always been the first to leave and the first to arrive, the pride of the town. Fanfare surrounded the two, as soon as their sweaty selves and sunburned faces arrived at the boardwalk. His mother would welcome them, waiting to transform their catch into a hearty, filling chowder. He used to call it an act of magic before he knew the word, much less the meaning of it.

As much as his mother’s cooking had lost most of its quality over the years it was still enough to keep him going during the odd errand and occasional “adventure” at the rocky shores. However, the memories of fresh seafood made his recent breakfast seem like an equally distant memory.

He went and took a small detour from the usual path to the cliffside all the while trying to ignore the gurgling sounds of his stomach. The boy soon arrived at a coastal meadow near the rock formations. Bright and reddish tinted berry bushes adorned the lush green scenery.

They were not as good as they looked, far from it. He learned that the hard way the first time he made the mistake of gorging down a hazardous amount, after tiring from chasing grasshoppers in the hills. Still, as with all things in life, he got used to them. They were an acquired taste. An acidic, downright sulfuric one, but a taste nevertheless.

Once he bit into his third berry, something that had been nagging him in the corner of his eye for a while now finally overtook his attention. Despite not having ventured into the ocean for quite some time he still knew it like the back of his hand, from the tiniest of seashells to the largest of waves. He knew its song by heart, and something was terribly off tune that day.

The nagging feeling became a blinding light from the coast. There was no wave that could reflect such radiance, that much he knew. Wiping his face with his tattered shirt, he rose up and picked up the pace to investigate, his hunger no longer impeding him. The boy reached the jagged rock formation and began his routinely descent to the hidden cove.

Scrapes and cuts—battle scars, he called them—, adorned his arms and legs. Each step and hand movement of the descent was ingrained in his mind. There were no wasted motions, no moments of self-doubt. While he knew it to be no substitute for fighting the open sea, he still felt a tiny twinge of pride from being able to tame a place deemed so dangerous by many.

After he completed his unseen spectacle, the warm sands greeted him like an affectionate round of applause, a feeling he cherished dearly. For a moment, he almost forgot why he had climbed down in the first place.

That was, until the light blinded him once again from the corner of his eye. As quickly as he turned, the boy saw the culprit right below him. Many times, he had seen the image in his mind when he used to pick up sticks and duel his friends at the shore, but never before had it left his imagination and entered reality.

The boy had seen weapons before, from the incompetent town guard to the, far better equipped, royal tax collectors, but this was different. Not only was it right there, ripe for the picking, but he almost felt like it called to him. The handle of the sword, its blade, its presence, all of it was of un-paralleled quality, he could tell. It was a weapon fit for a tale or even a legend.

Once the boy grabbed the sword, another question began crawling in the back of his mind _where_ _did it come from?_ he thought. The boy did not even try to swing the blade around to cleave through imaginary foes, for his father’s words resonated in his memory. _“A man’s cast, like his will, is his_ _own, and no one else’s.”_

This remarkable piece of steel was not the only castaway in the hidden cove. He kept walking towards the east, taking the sword with him. The boy let a few slashing motions escape him during the search for the blade’s owner, but quickly regained his focus. After a few minutes, he caught a glimpse from afar. It reflected no flash of light but the sight alone was puzzling enough.

The boy had never seen a castaway before in his life. _The ocean never returns what it takes_ and there lay an exception. Approaching the grey-headed anomaly with utmost care, he took the sword and carefully started poking the lying man’s drenched, leather vest. He was careful enough as to not draw blood, but sufficiently persistent to annoy even the most patient of saints. As he repeated the motions, the boy soon noticed cuts and slashes covering the castaway’s skin, beneath the man’s torn pieces of clothing, some fresher than others.

“Battle scars,” he whispered to himself with a sense of amazement he had so dearly missed, connecting dots and letting his imagination run wild.

Pictures flooded in, of grandiose swashbuckling tales vivified from memory. Ever since he was little, he had heard stories of these vicious seafarers, told by his father. Words varied as much as the tales he remembered. They were adventurers, remorseless killers, free spirits, hunters of treasure, lovers of fine brew and men of the sea, but one definition always trumped the rest: they were all pirates.

His reminiscing soon came to a halt however, once the hundredth poke took place. A gasp for breath erupted from the burning sands and with it rose the castaway. The dirtied man turned to face the surprised tormentor.

The castaway stared at the boy, sand covering his ragged visage, squinting as if the sunlight were a sworn enemy. A second turned into an eternity, it was a standstill with neither side knowing how to react. However, as the boy prepared to ask the first question, the castaway had already lost the short-lived battle of wits.

"Is this hell?" groaned the castaway, before expelling a tiny clump of sand from his mouth and ingloriously falling back into the sands.


	3. Chapter 2: The Castaway

** Chapter 2: The Castaway **

“Wait…so how is he gonna move Inigo around?” asked the young boy while munching on a four cheese, grilled sandwich, making quite a mess on the covers of the bed. “I kno fes a food climfer an all fu-” and his face as well.

“Don’t speak with your mouth full! Didn’t I teach you manners?” said the father, both amused and ashamed, as he cleaned up the leftover crumbs with a paper towel. “I swear your mother spoils you too much.”

“You too, dad,” the quick-witted boy countered, wearing a knowing smile.

“Hey, don’t push it,” replied the father jokingly. He then took a sip from his mug of coffee, holding back the reaction caused by its bitter aftertaste. Sophistication be damned, he regretted not adding any sugar.

“But yeah…how is he gonna move Inigo all the way back?” questioned the boy, having finished the last bite of his dinner. His father, eager to return to his narration, followed suit with an assortment of likely possibilities.

“Well he’s probably going to have a lot of trouble doing so. Both might end up with a couple of head bumps along the way, for sure. Give or take a few slips here and there….or now that you mention it, he could just swim around…“said the father, teasing his son about the events that would likely follow in the story, before being swiftly interrupted by another one of his son’s rebuttals.

“Why not just skip to the part where he wakes up?” suggested the boy, before taking a gulp of his ice-cold glass of apple juice.

The man’s eyes lit up, his son always proved to have some excellent insight at the most unexpected of times. Without giving it a second thought, he grabbed a nearby marker pen and scribbled over a considerable amount of pages. Once he was finished doing the makeshift edition, the man put away the excess sheets and proceeded with his newly abridged narration. If anything, they would have more paper towels for dessert.

* * *

Darkness engulfed the castaway once more. It seemed that his recent encounter had just been a nightmare ingrained within a pleasant dying dream, and with that, he let those intrusive thoughts slip by from his consciousness; there was no point in worrying anymore after all. That was, until he felt the rumbling. An all-encompassing pain broke through the void; searing flames rose from the cracks and began to consume all around him.

However, soon after, as if someone had heard his cries for help, a feeling of cold appeased his pain. It did not douse the flames entirely but it was enough to make them bearable. Little by little, the void began to crumble. Dull feelings of pain and other fresh ones began spreading beyond the discomfort of his forehead. Despite his own objections, the castaway’s eyelids began to open, and the void was no more.

“Look mom, he’s waking up,” whispered a young boy’s voice.

“Shush! Don’t pester him Aalik, he’s doing bad enough as it is,” responded the exasperated and tired voice of a woman.

The smell of wet cloth and peppermint filled his nostrils, and with it came a light sense of invigoration. As his eyes adjusted to the room's dim, candle lit illumination, the castaway found himself bedridden, inside of a humble abode. A tired-looking brunette woman sat by the side of the bed, along with the same pale boy he had seen in his self-appointed nightmare. The resemblance between them was not lost to the castaway.

“Here, drink this,” said the woman delicately, as she grabbed a cup of tea and extended the aromatic drink towards the castaway’s trembling hands. He tried to inspect it, but the woman’s intense glare easily put down any signs of hesitation. He took a cautious sip, and almost immediately, his eyes shut tight with disgust. It took him an inhuman effort not to spit it out.

“Pretty bad right?” said Aalik, chuckling at the man’s suffering. This of course, earned a disapproving look from his mother, putting an end to his amusement. The mother then proceeded to remove the towel resting over the castaway’s forehead and began to soak it in a bucket of cold seawater.

As she did this, the castaway, gagging from the aftertaste, put the cup away in the bedside table, and began to check his wounds. It was a last ditch attempt to prove this as no more than a nightmare, however, as soon as he began to doze off, the memory of the boy before him came back to him in a flash and his hands immediately went for his empty sword belt. _Where is it?_

A surge of anxiety shot the castaway's senses. He rose up halfway from the creaking bed, but a jolt of pain from the right side of his ribcage threw him back into the mattress. The scene naturally caught the attention of the other two, especially that of the mother, whose eyes had gained a steely look of impatience.

“Don’t do that again! You’ll only make it worse,” she said with a voice packing authority to the brim. The castaway, not quite unfazed, but nevertheless desperate, countered with his own fervent demand.

“Where is it? Where is my sword!” asked the castaway, with just as much strength.

“I took it away from my son, I will not allow anything of the sort in this inn,” said the mother, while also giving Aalik an incriminatory look. This made Aalik's head shrink back into his shoulders, but it did not keep him from rebutting her.

“B-but father always said that a man’s cast…“ Aalik stuttered, but was silenced by another one of his mother’s glares.

Her eyes closed and a reminiscing, pained look claimed her for a moment, before quickly fading away. “I…know, Aalik…but my word is final,” the woman declared with a noticeable inflexion of regret and fatigue, as she finished squeezing the cold towel. Aalik shifted his eyes away and a feeling of guilt crawled inside the woman, but she endured it. Neither spoke for quite some time.

“Madam,” said the soft, but still strong voice of the castaway. The woman turned to face him while Aalik’s head remained hung low.

“I just need to know where it is, please, that sword means much to me,” whispered the castaway, his tone no longer one of conflict but of imploration.

The woman turned her gaze towards Aalik and back to the castaway. Her features softened but still maintained their underlying iron will. She placed the towel over the man's forehead and the castaway closed his eyes in relief. A moment passed before he opened them again and stared back at the woman whose expression was now one of intrigue.

“Why should I tell you?” she asked shortly afterward. Aalik looked back at her with incredulity but this time she paid him no mind. “I don’t know who you are, where you came from, nothing! Why should I just tell you where that thing is?” she said, but this time she was willing to listen.

“I would rather die before harming an innocent,” the castaway replied with no hesitation whatsoever, and at that moment the mother knew, he spoke no empty promises. A rising feeling of respect towards the castaway's conviction welled inside her, but she remained silent, as a cue for him to carry on.

“I swear on my father’s soul and the heirloom that keeps me close to him, for my life is of no worth to swear upon,” said the castaway, unflinchingly.

Aalik’s eyes widened as much as his mother’s stubbornness waned. The air of the room became lighter, as if conflicting nations called a truce during a time of need. No more words needed to be crossed; the mother simply picked up the empty wooden bucket and stood up. As she reached for the door, the castaway called out to her with a tone of urgency.

“Wait! You do not need to give it back! I just need to know if it’s safe!” he practically begged.

The mothe turned to face him, an amused smile adorning her face. “Don’t be silly, I’m only going to fill this up. That fever isn’t going to go away on its own you know,” she said as she opened door, but before she took another step, she looked back at the castaway.

”It’s not going anywhere, don’t worry,” she said calmly. Upon hearing this, the castaway’s face became a picture of tranquility. This did not last for long however, for he just so remembered another, if not nearly as urgent, request.

“Madam, you wouldn’t happen to have something to wash this down, would you?” the castaway petitioned, giving an incriminatory side-glance to the empty cup by the bedside table. The deceptively rich smell almost taunted him into drinking its foul contents once more, but he knew better.

“Of course, I’ll be right back,” she replied. The sound of her footsteps on the wooden floor echoed in the room until it ceased. The castaway closed his eyes and regained his serene look.

“Sorry about that, my mom worries too much sometimes,” said Aalik, rubbing the back of his head, an embarrassed smile plastered on his face.

“You should feel proud, she's strong-willed,” the castaway sternly corrected, with slight amusement.

Aalik’s eyes turned to the side, a glint of pride gleaming within them before they went back to facing the castaway. “So….was your father a pirate just like you?” asked Aalik with an eager look on his face.

The castaway opened his eyes and looked at Aalik curiously, with brows furrowed deeply in thought. “You must always be certain before you take a step forward. Tread carefully and never jump to conclusions, boy,” he replied in a scolding manner.

Deeply struck by the abrupt shift in mood, Aalik returned to hanging his head low in shame.

“He was a sword maker...the best that ever was,” said the castaway in prideful remembrance.

Aalik raised his head once more, his face and eyes engulfed with childlike glee. “I knew that sword was special!” Aalik exclaimed proudly.

The castaway chuckled heartily at Aalik’s reaction. His smile showed even more age marks around his face, as if laughing were an uncommon occurrence for him. “That would be putting it mildly,” said the castaway.

For a moment, Aalik seemed lost in thought, as if trying to formulate questions to further fuel the growing fire of his imagination. However, that train of thought stopped once the sound of steps and sloshing water approached the room, followed by the creaking of the wooden door.

The mother entered, holding the filled bucket with her right hand and a wine bottle in the other. Her breaths were slightly irregular however, to which the castaway took notice of, but decided not to comment upon. He knew walking over to help her was definitely out of the question. Putting the thought away, his attention switched to the bottle in the woman’s hand. To say that the sight enraptured him would have been a massive understatement.

“What did I just say Aalik? Let the man be,” she said in a motherly tone, but the tension present before was now thankfully gone; it was a kind-hearted reproach if anything.

She walked up to the side of the bed and sat back down on the wooden chair, placing both the bucket and the bottle on the bedside table. However, as she tried to place the towel over the man’s forehead, his raised hand slowly stopped hers.

“I can do that by myself, don’t worry. I am feeling better now, thank you, Madam,” said the castaway with a wide smile, which the mother kindly returned as she gave handed over the cloth.

“I’ll be sure to check on you later,” said the mother, her growing fatigue catching up with her as she stood. She then patted Aalik's shoulder, giving him a look he knew very well and rather loathed.

“Oh come on, it’s not even that late! I didn’t even get to ask him his name!” cried Aalik indignantly as they both walked to the door. Once again, the voice of their recovering guest stopped them in their tracks.

“I never got your name Madam!” He asked, placing the wet cloth over his forehead before lying back on the worn down mattress.

“Why I’d be, quite uncouth of from you, sir. You must always give your own name before asking for another’s,” she replied with feigned indignation, earning a snort from the castaway. Aalik stared, eagerly awaiting for the man’s response.

“Inigo,” he said.

With the request fulfilled, the mother’s leftover facade fell apart by the seams. Aalik, however, had found the man’s answer to be rather anticlimactic.

“What kind of a pirate name is that?” Aalik exclaimed, only to be hushed by another passing glance from his mother. A frustrated huff escaped him, but he relented.

“Let’s go Aalik, we all need some rest,” she said tenderly.

Aalik gruffed and finally left the room. As she was about to close the door, the mother turned back to face Inigo. He was holding the wine bottle, meticulously admiring the glass container, as if it contained the hidden truths of life itself. A quick clearing of her throat got his attention back, however.

“Aama,” she responded. A tired smile adorned her pearly features. Inigo gave one of his own, as wide as it could be. Aama closed the door. The footsteps echoed in the hallway, until the room finally became silent.

With that, Inigo resumed his appreciation of the bottle, eyeing it with twinkling anticipation. He removed the cork and its lovely melody rang deep inside his ears. Barely containing his enthusiasm, Inigo took a swift gulp of the sacred liquid. Oh how he and his taste buds needed this, the rest of his senses be damned at that very moment!

It was more peppermint tea.


	4. Chapter 3: Errands

** Chapter 3: Errands **

Inigo’s recovery went off without a hitch, in spite of his disgust for Aama’s medicinal tea. If the taste alone could make the swordsman tremble in fear, then a run of the mill fever stood no chance whatsoever.

Not long passed before he was able to move freely again, and with it he began to beg Aama to let him assist in the inn, or whatever task was necessary. “I owe you and your son my life, Madam, I am indebted to you,” was his go-to mantra, one he had to use several times before Aama finally gave into his pleas. Not even the proposed return of his blade dissuaded him, much to her initial chagrin.

The days went on and Inigo soon became a vast source of gossip around Fitcherdorf. The hushed exchanges ranged from flattering comments about Aalik’s heroic deed, to wary harbingers of doom, whom deemed Inigo’s unexpected appearance to be a bad omen for the people of the town.

Many a folks called Aama far too trusting for her own good, but she paid them little mind. Despite Inigo’s rugged exterior and fixation towards wine, lazy and bum were definitely not amongst the adjectives she would now use to describe him. Times had been growing dire as of late and having another pair of hands to help at the inn was something both Aama and Aalik deeply appreciated.

Today, both Inigo and Aalik were on boat cleaning duties. Inigo was eager to help, but he did not fail to notice the Aalik’s frown since Aama had sent them off. There had been a short-lived, though intense, quarrel between them, but as always, Aalik gave in. There was little choice in the matter, for they desperately needed the extra income.

After a couple of days of observing the customs of the port town, it slowly became clear to Inigo that Aama had forbidden her son from sailing back into the open waters, and sort of errand related to the port would cause friction between the two. Inigo always kept silent throughout these exchanges, never once asking the specifics or taking sides, but it did not take him much time to piece the story together.

Aalik usually plagued him with questions of his past, cryptic answers being Inigo’s favorite method of response. Now that Aalik was silent on their way to the town port, Inigo felt as if something were missing. While Inigo knew it was not his place to speak, he still felt that he needed to act one way or another.

 _Perhaps some dilly-dally will lighten things up_ he thought. After all, small talk is more often than not, the source of life’s greatest joys and joy was very much needed right now.

“Is summer always like this around here? I might end up needing more of that dreadful tea at this rate,” said Inigo, before letting out a sonorous sneeze, cutting through the sounds of seagulls and waves.

“Yeah, pretty hot isn’t it?” responded Aalik. A light chuckle escaped him, but he stubbornly tried to maintain appearances by cutting it short.

“Hot? Why, I’ve gone through kinder winters,” answered Inigo, while balancing both buckets of water as they approached the boardwalk. No reaction came from Aalik but it did not daunt Inigo in the slightest.

As they reached their appointed destination, the two met with one of the local fishermen, a rather large and heavyset elderly man, who sported an uneven scraggly beard and a worn-down mariner outfit, which at this point was no more different than a tattered rag.

“Took y’all long enough!” complained the sailor, all the while shooting an unamused glare towards the current victim of the town’s gossip. A decrepit fishing boat stood by his side, complementing the man’s appearance. The sailor treated their arrival with indifference, and his dry response further reinforced the visibility of his displeasure.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Esben. We came as soon as we heard,” replied Inigo calmly, while placing the two buckets of water on the boardwalk next to the fishing boat.

“Oh, you will be if you’re not done cleaning this here hunk of trash by the time I’m back. Ya hear me!” spat back Esben, both figuratively and literally.

“Rest assured sir! We’ll be done before you know it!” answered Inigo, absentmindedly cleaning his clothes. His attitude remained undeterred, despite the abrasive nature of the sailor.

“Yeah yeah, whatever. Just get on with it,” grumbled Esben, sharply cutting eye contact with Inigo, before turning around and leaving the two to their own devices.

The duo watched as Esben walked away from the docks and into the local tavern, with a notoriously uneven gait. It was a deceptively subtle act of balance, Inigo noted, likely owing itself to his long lasting sea legs, if his former military background was any indication.

It was customary for old Esben to have a morning drink before taking off into the frozen waters, as Inigo himself found out during his sporadic visits to the bar. It was also customary for him to order a fourth or even fifth pint. If Inigo could have bet with anyone right now, he would have most certainly bet on the upcoming beverage being the sixth round of the day.

Chuckling at the thought, Inigo climbed into the boat alongside Aalik. Leftover bottles plagued the vessel like drunkard stowaways, the sound of rolling glass over the wooden floor piercing the pleasant sloshing of the coastal waves. Aalik frowned in disgust at the sight whereas Inigo looked at the whole mess with amusement, placing his buckets aside and picking up one of the bottles. Inigo gave it a quick sniff.

“Ew, that’s gross!” cried Aalik with disgust.

Inigo, however, paid him no mind. He was far too focused on analyzing the odorous remnants of the bottle to notice the Aalik’s disapproval. “Mmm…Pinot! Aged to perfection! Can’t deny his good taste,” Inigo exclaimed with brimming enthusiasm, and he delicately returned the bottle back to its resting place, alongside its brethren. Aalik could only stare.

Once Inigo ended his appreciation of the brewing arts, he grabbed a dried up swab and soaked it in one of the buckets. Aalik quickly followed suit, though his movements were dispassionate and sluggish, compared to Inigo’s carefree and energetic sequence.

“….Why do you let him talk to you like that?” Aalik asked, squeezing the excess water from the swab. Inigo looked at him, arching his eyebrows and smiling.

“He’s just grumpy, that’s all,” Inigo replied heartily, dropping the mop over the creaking floor. “After all, who wouldn’t be? The sea is awful this time of year.”

“Old man Esben’s been like that forever,” Aalik responded in a slight deadpan, as he too began cleaning the decrepit boat.

“Old folks are either grouchy or lively,” said Inigo as he mopped the grimy floor. “Not a whole lot in-between.”

“Well, I suppose you should know,” Aalik responded with a mocking tone. Inigo snorted.

“From the looks of it, you’ll most likely end up being the former,” Inigo teased back, hoping to get a positive reaction or at the very least a witty remark.

“Probably,” Aalik responded flatly, and just like that, the sounds of the ocean overtook over their conversation.

Inigo could not help but to internally curse at himself. For a moment, it almost seemed as if Aalik's mood had finally taken a turn, but no, he only made it worse. Letting out a resigned sigh, Inigo returned to his duties.

Time went on slowly for the two. The sound of the sea and the empty bottles became their only form of company. Despite this slump in mood however, Inigo’s duties were not the least bit affected. Thanks to his near peerless form, no speck of dirt was safe from his masterful handling of the swab.The same could not be said about Aalik, whom Inigo noted to be having quite a bit of trouble with some notoriously stubborn patches of grime and filth.

“Need some help with that?” said Inigo, and while his question temporarily halted Aalik’s desperate attempts at fighting the filth, it did not yield a response, for Aalik simply returned to furiously mopping the boat, to no avail.

Still, Inigo did not falter. He approached Aalik, who only gave him a sideways glance as he kept trying to scrub away the patch of grime. Soon however, the inclement sun and self-inflicted fatigue finally took their toll. Aalik dropped the mop and sat down, trying to catch his breath while pretending to ignore the worried look on Inigo’s face.

“Working hard is one thing Aalik but working smart is another,” said Inigo, his voice was stern but kind. He demonstrated the saying by easily dealing with the persistent patches of muck, with gentle but steady sways of the mop. Not a hint of fatigue or exhaustion showed on his face, much to Aalik’s amazement.

Once he finished, Inigo sat down next to Aalik and resumed his inspection of one of the many leftover bottles rolling about. Rather than giving another cry of disgust, Aalik instead let out a mild-mannered apology.

“...I’m sorry,” Aalik whispered.

“Don’t be,” said Inigo, smiling, his eyes no longer fixed on the bottle. “I just wanted to brighten things up that’s all.”

“Thanks,” Aalik said quietly, lightly kicking away one of the empty bottles. His face became pensive and almost seemed to let out steam, thanks to the brutal sunlight. “Shouldn’t old man Esben be back by now?” Aalik sighed.

“He’s certainly enjoying himself, that’s for sure,” said Inigo with a hearty laugh, accompanied by the boy’s lighter yet still vivid chuckle. The sound of it lifted a huge weight off Inigo’s shoulders, who returned to inspecting one of the many throwaway bottles.

After a short moment of thought, Aalik stood up and jumped back into the boardwalk, scaring off some of the nearby seagulls. “I’m going to the tavern. I’m not waiting around all day,” he said, as he marched towards the run down pub.

Inigo sighed as he raised himself, picking up Aalik’s mop alongside the rest of their cleaning equipment. Thankfully, the buckets were more or less empty by now and any leftover drops of water evaporated thanks to the sunlight. Upon gathering the cleaning equipment, he left the now far more presentable vessel and picked up speed to reach Aalik, who was now nearing the tavern.

“Patience is a virtue, Aalik, didn’t you know that?” said Inigo once he had managed to catch up with Aalik.

Aalik shot back a counter analogy of his own. “Not when you’re fishing in an empty pond.”

 _He’s got a point_ thought Inigo.

However, just as the two were nearing the tavern, something caught their attention. Dozens of villagers began to scram out of the establishment, fleeing as quickly as they could. In their panic, the crowd did not acknowledge their presence. This of course, alerted the duo, more so because Esben was not anywhere amongst the rabble.

“What’s going on?” asked Aalik, surprised at the sudden hysteria.

Aalik's doubts were answered when a slurred shout came from inside the tavern. Both Inigo and Aalik immediately recognized its source, none other than Esben himself. Gone was the sailor’s tone of accustomed annoyance, pure unbridled rage had taken its place.

The closer they got, the more voices they began to hear coming from inside the tavern. Esben was not alone and whomever was inside with him; was far from sounding like good company. A sense of danger assaulted Inigo and Aalik. Neither of them recognized these strangers, but one thing the knew for certain, they would not leave Esben alone.


	5. Chapter 4: Tavern Tussle

** Chapter 4: Tavern Tussle **

Inigo and Aalik stood outside of the worn down pub. It was hard to make out exactly what was going on, but judging by the shouting, Esben was not taking too kindly to these strangers. Curious, Aalik took a few tentative steps towards the wooden door. However, before he could reach the doorway, Inigo grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

“I’ll take care of this,” muttered Inigo under his breath “Go back to the Inn.” Aalik scowled at Inigo.“I’m not scared of some thugs,” he whispered back.

Inigo let out a drawn out sigh and began rubbing his temple with his free hand, leaving the mop beside him. As Inigo looked at him hopelessly, Aalik felt his scowl deepen. What business was it of his anyway? He could handle himself as well as anyone. Before he could say as much however, Inigo spoke

“Listen,” he began in a low but firm voice “I owe you and your mother my life, and capable as you may be I can’t protect you in there. Wait for me at the inn. It will be easier for both of us.”

Aalik opened his mouth to argue, but Inigo’s intense glare caused the words to die in his throat. Bitterly swallowing back his pride, he merely nodded and Inigo released him.

Aalik turned and started walking off while Inigo watched. Once Aalik had disappeared, Inigo went towards the door of the pub. Inside the argument sounded as though it was about to turn violent.

Pausing outside of the entrance, he spotted the mop leaning beside the doorway. Shrugging, he grabbed it-

* * *

“He’s not going to fight with a mop is he?” the boy asked.

“Of course he is!” replied the father with pride. “Now back to the-“

“Why not just give him his sword back?”

“You want to miss school tomorrow or not?” the father asked, rather flatly.

“Ok, go on.”

* * *

Five men stood inside the shoddy establishment, which had definitely seen far better days. Broken bottles, mugs and smelly puddles of dubious origin decorated the grimy wooden floor, all of it topped off by the lingering smell of cheap alcohol and other less than savory substances.

The four men on the opposite side of the tavern were in the middle of a laughing fit, until the largest of them all calmed himself and addressed Esben, who stood on the opposite side, near the bar table.

“Easy now old man, we’re just passing through,” said the leader of the brigands rather mockingly, accompanied by the grungy laughter of his three cronies.

They wore little more than tattered leather armor, rags and worn down blades, but their scar-ridden

faces and size alone more than made up for it when it came to scaring off run of the mill villagers, at least, until now.

“You want me to calm down? Kiss my rear end, you good for nothing dirt bag!” Esben shouted back as he slammed his fist on a nearby table. Several plates and mugs tumbled and fell from the impact.

The brigand’s intimidation tactics had worked with the rest of the tavern’s regulars, but they fell flat on Esben, who showed no fear when standing up to them, and less so when it came to hurling insults. It had been amusing at first, but their patience was crumbling at an alarming rate.

“Look old timer, we’re just looking for some supplies, that’s all. Where’s all of that small town hospitality?” asked the brigand boss mockingly, further reinforced by the half-baked murmur of agreement from the rest of his gang. This of course angered Esben to no end and old sailor man grabbed a wooden mug and downed its leftover ale.

“You just come here to take our hard earned wages,” spat back Esben, slamming the mug on the table. “You’re no better than those good for nothing tax collectors. Least those thugs have weapons, not goddamn kitchen utensils!”

Veins popped on the brigand leader’s neck and forehead; his brows furrowed and twitched while his teeth gritted in a terrifying grin. The brigand leader reached for the handle of his beaten down short sword, nearly breaking the hilt with the strength of his grip.

“I must’ve spared most of my patience with the rest of the rabble, old man,” said the brigand boss in a deep, frustrated tone as he closed his eyes, trying to regain some of his composure to little avail. “Just hand over that honorable wage of yours and we’ll all be on our merry way.”

For a moment, it seemed like the threats had finally sunk into Esben's thick conscience, as there was no following insult, he just stood there, gaze lowered and staring at the table. The brigand boss slowly let go of the weapon and his calm smile returned once more.

“See? Ain’t that much better?” said the leader smugly. “Now–“

But before the leader could finish his sentence, a flying object suddenly clouded the his vision. A mug struck his face, and the ensuing cracking noise resonated throughout the entire tavern, alongside the astounded gasps of his lackeys.

The leader quickly regained his sight and footing, cleaning the cheap bitter liquid and bits of wooden mug off from his face. Then, noting the growing pain in his nose, the leader stared at his hand. There was blood smeared all over it. Anger finally claimed the last shred of the leader’s judgment and he immediately brandished his blade. Had his face been any redder, one would have thought that the bleeding was also internal.

“That’s it! You’re dead!” roared the enraged rigand boss. His subordinates followed suit, drawing their respective, poorly crafted, swords and adopting menacing stances as they began to close in on Esben. In response, Esben simply stood still, shooting a steely gaze at the gang.

However, the series of unforeseen interruptions had only just begun for the band of criminals. A slamming sound coursed throughout the tavern, which surprised not only the brigand’s but Esben as well. They all turned their attention towards the entrance of the bar and its unexpected arrival.

To say the sight of a mop wielding man standing proudly at the entrance of the tavern both amused and dumbfounded the brigands would have been a gross understatement. The same did not apply for Esben however, who wasted no time in making his displeasure known to everyone around him.

“Go back to cleaning my boat, you lazy bum!” Esben screamed at Inigo, who chuckled in return but never once turned his sights away from the brigands.

“Not to worry, Esben. I was just done with that…” Inigo replied, while he analyzed the stance and equipment of the ruffians, deeming them a manageable nuisance despite his similar lack of proper weaponry, "and it just occurred to me, why not add some community service to the mix?”

“I can handle this sorry lot by myself! I don’t need no one fighting my fights, you hear me!” shouted back Esben, sluggishly pointing at Inigo in an accusatory manner.

As soon as Inigo began forming a witty rebuttal, he found his attention snapping back to the leader of the gang. The large brigand let out yet another scream and single handedly flipped over one of the nearby tables with ease.

“Enough!” exclaimed the leader, who looked more or less like a ripened tomato at this point. He then pointed at the swab-wielding stranger with his short sword. “Who the hell are you?”

Inigo looked at him with a stone-cold glare before switching back to a knowing smile. “No one of consequence,” he stated and shrugged, both masterfully performed in a clearly mocking manner.

“Damn right you are!” seethed the leader through closed teeth. “You! Kill him!” he shouted, commanding one of his cronies to deal with the intrusive stranger.

The lackey ran towards Inigo, letting out a guttural cry of intimidation, which Inigo ignored. Inigo assumed a calm reactionary stance, holding the swab with both hands, welcoming the brigand with unshakable confidence.

Once he had closed in on Inigo the lackey jumped, raising his blade to the highest possible point, and swung downwards aiming for Inigo’s head, only to have his sword hand met by a swift strike from the low end of the swab, trapping his shortsword and tossing it aside

Taking advantage of the lackey’s surprise, Inigo continued the flow of movement, sidestepping out of the ruffian’s falling trajectory and intercepting the brigand’s leg with the mop, flipping him over. The lackey fell flat on his face over the wooden floor, before Inigo swiftly knocked him unconscious with a blow from his boot.

As the lackey laid there, poked at by Inigo, who was most likely trying to verify said lack of consciousness, the leader and his two remaining henchmen could only stare at the scene, dumbfounded. That was, until leader shook his head and regained his composure. He glared daggers at Inigo and once again let out a short-tempered command, drawing the attention of his remaining cronies.

“Well? What are you waiting for, you idiots? Kill him!” ordered the leader. His two henchmen immediately complied and rushed towards Inigo. With that, the leader of the thugs returned his focus towards Esben and was not the least bit amused when he saw him drinking from a leftover bottle on the tavern counter, entirely apathetic to the entire situation.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you old man!” yelled the leader, though it earned no response from Esben, who remained unfazed and static.

Infuriated by Esben's indifference, the leader charged in a fit of rage. Heavy steps slammed through the creaking wooden floor as the brigand rushed towards Esben, holding his blade in a mockery of how a noble knight would have held a lance during a joust. The ringleader channeled every bit of strength, speed and weight into the decisive blow.

A sense of satisfaction took over the brigand; Esben’s apparent wait for his own demise almost seemed like an act of providence. The feeling did not last for long however, for as soon as the blade was within reach, Esben responded accordingly, by unceremoniously dropping to the ground, “dodging” the fatal strike. The blade fell upon the wooden counter, stuck so firmly that the leader found himself unable to release it, not without breaking it that is, much to his ire.

Esben clutched his head, groaning in discomfort. It seemed that the last sip had proven to be his limit. He tried everything in his power to recover a smidgen of sense of space and time, despite the feeling of numbness in his body. Thankfully, the grating sound of the ringleader’s whining and frustration allowed him to do just that, and while Esben could not rise more than what his wobbling knees would allow, it was more than enough. He focused himself, grabbed the ruffian’s boots, and ungraciously tripped him.

The leader let out a surprised yelp as his chin fell upon the counter. A searing pain flared in his face as he caressed it and yet again when a heavy blow fell over his cheek. The impact knocked him on his back, splashing him into one of the many yellow tinted puddles in the tavern.

“How do you like that, punk!” spat Esben, laughing at the leader’s misery, but then, his next stomp came to a screeching halt, restrained by the leader’s vice-like grip.

The leader stood up menacingly, never once letting go of Esben’s boot. Esben wobbled and began to lose his remaining balance. This of course, did not stop Esben from cursing at the leader mid-struggle, but the leader, who was no longer in the mood for insults, flipped Esben into the cold tavern floor. If Esben’s head had been spinning, now it might as well have flung out of orbit, for he could barely make out the blurry shape of the leader approaching him.

But, before the leader could have reached Esben, he heard the sound of creaking wood right behind him. Fueled by rage and adrenaline, the leader grabbed ahold of a nearby chair, turned around, and swung it backwards with all his might.

Steel and wood collided; splinters flew along with the broken piece of poorly crafted weaponry. The leader had successfully cracked and thrown off the shortsword halfway through the tavern, disarming its former wielder.

Inigo stood in front of the towering thug. He had lost the swab while dispatching the rest of the lackeys, but had managed to get ahold of one of their blades. Now that his only weapon was more than a couple of feet away, and in shambles, he stood there, hastily analyzing his remaining options.

 _I’ll just grab another one!_ Inigo thought, but as soon as he took a step away from the leader, a throwaway bottle interrupted his escape and tripped him.

Luckily, Inigo managed to stop the fall, his hands taking the brunt of the impact. But before he could stand up, a devastating strike knocked him into the floor. Despite the pain enveloping his body, Inigo managed to turn around and face the looming thug.

The brigand held the chair with both hands and began to raise it to its highest point, preparing the finishing blow with a wicked smile. Inigo tried to react, but the pain of his bones prevented him from doing so. He could only close his eyes and brace himself for the impact.

Suddenly, a splashing sound and the smell of briny seawater caused Inigo to open his eyes. He saw the thug, flailing and tumbling, for a bucket had fallen over his head, blocking his sight. Fighting against the pain, Inigo shifted and launched a kick to the brigand’s shins. It was not enough to knock the large thug over, but it was painful enough to make him lose more

The thug jumped about, screaming muffled cries of pain, until he finally slipped on the very same puddle as before. He slammed the back of his bucket-covered head against the counter table and promptly fell unconscious.

Inigo groaned as he tried to turn around and thank his mysterious savior, when a pair of hands grabbed his left arm and helped him to stand up. “Are you okay?” said a young voice he immediately recognized.

“Aalik?” asked Inigo, grunting from the effort. He turned and saw Aalik standing by his side, a relieved yet conflicted look showed in the boy’s face.

“I’m sorry! What was I supposed to do? I couldn't just leave you alone!” cried Aalik with anger and worry. Inigo could only stare while trying to recover his lost breath.

“...Thank you Aalik,” he calmly replied, placing a hand on Aalik's shoulder. Aalik smiled proudly. Soon, voices began closing in on the tavern. There were terrified gasps once the people saw the result of the skirmish but they soon became whispers of awe and respect.

“Would you look at that!” shouted a rather scrawny, mustachioed, middle-aged man amongst the crowd. He quickly made his way towards Inigo and Aalik.

“You got rid of those thugs! Thank you!” exclaimed the man happily. “You’ve saved my business, how can ever I repay you?”

A loud groan of discomfort prevented Inigo from answering the man, as well as drawing everyone’s attention. The crowd turned to look at Esben, who stood up and slowly walked over to the tavern owner, all the while groaning and massaging his head.

Before Inigo could say anything, Esben directed his slurred words at the bartender “Triple my tab and give what’s left to these two. You’re going to need all the money you can get to fix up this mess.”

“Why, of course!” the bartender answered brightly, if slightly dumbfounded, while Inigo and Aalik both stared incredulously at Esben.

“What’re you looking at? Got something on my face?” asked Esben, quite annoyed at their stares.

Aalik fidgeted. “T-thank you, Mister Esben,” he said, embarrassed, finding it quite hard to meet Esben’s gaze head on.

Esben looked at Aalik and while no phantom of a smile showed itself, the air around him had suddenly become approachable. Blunt, tactless and very much rough around the edges, but approachable nevertheless. With all said and done Esben left the tavern. The crowd opened up around him, sporting similar expressions of surprise, no doubt caused by his unusual display of kindness. Still astonished, Aalik looked at Inigo, who was at an equal loss of words and could only shrug.

Shortly after, the crowd surrounded them and began to celebrate their heroic deed. A merry aura filled the run-down tavern, in sharp contrast to its disastrous appearance. All was well for the two as they basked in this rather welcome feeling of glory and pride. That was, until a terrifyingly familiar shout shook the occupants of the tavern to their core and froze Inigo and Aalik with fear.

“AALIK REUS! JUST WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?”


	6. Chapter 5: The Map

** Chapter 5: The Map **

Aama’s scolding had been nothing short of extraordinary. In spite of her ragged breaths and lithe, baggy-eyed complexion, such was her presence that no one in the crowd dared to intervene, lest they become another target of her legendary tongue-lashings. Inigo had almost opened his mouth at one point, but the innermost part of his subconscious forbade him from doing so.

Then, suddenly, Aama’s lengthy diatribes ended, and she embraced Aalik, desperately holding him as if he had faded away from the face of the world. After a brief moment of shock, Aalik returned the gesture, his shirt wet and soggy due to his mother’s falling tears.

“What were you thinking, Aalik?” asked Aama, her voice hoarse and breaking.

“Old man Esben and Inigo were in trouble. I just couldn’t run away and leave them like that,” replied Aalik firmly.

Aama did not respond, instead focusing on strengthening the hug. After a lengthy pause, Aama broke the embrace, drawing her son slightly away in order to look at him directly in the eye. “Please, Aalik, don’t ever do something like that again. Promise me!” she begged as she tightly pressed Aalik’s shoulders.

“Y-yes mom, I promise,” stammered Aalik, finding it quite difficult to keep his composure under his mother’s distraught look.

Aama’s expression changed to one of relief as she closed her eyes but her peace did not last for long. Picking off from where she had left off, she turned to face Inigo, who appeared to accept her incoming reprimand.

“And you,” said Aama, her tone rising as she stood up and pointed at Inigo. “What was going through your head? Trying to fight off those thugs! You could’ve gotten yourselves killed!”

“I’m sorry, Madam. I hope you can forgive me,” Inigo replied solemnly. His response did little to appease Aama’s temperament however, and her teary gaze remained as steadfast as ever. Inigo recognized this and waited for her to speak once again.

However, before Aama could continue with her reproach, Aalik summoned all of his willpower and stood between his mother and Inigo. “Mom, leave Inigo out of this. He told me to go back to the inn, if you’re going to blame anyone, blame me!” cried Aalik, trying his best not to falter beneath his mother’s look of disbelief. “Besides, Inigo did the right thing! The tax collectors already take more than enough from us!”

Before Aama could even begin to respond to her son’s arguments, the tavern owner approached them. The man had originally kept a prudent distance from the scene, but thanks to Aalik’s display of courage a bit of his own shone through.

“If I may, Mrs. Reus, these two did a great service today by taking care of this rabble,” the tavern

owner kindly remarked, as he pointed towards the unconscious brigands. “In fact, they’ve done more than the town guard today than those freeloaders have for months.” The man laughed dryly at his last statement.

Little by little, members of the crowd joined in, taking the owner’s example. Some had words of solace for Aama while others congratulated Aalik’s act of bravery. Even a few words of praise went towards Inigo, ranging from “not so bad after all” to “did he seriously fight with a mop?”

Between the shower of praise and kind words Aama looked at Aalik and Inigo thoughtfully. Her eyes were still reddish but her temper had finally begun to recede, much to Aalik’s relief. Wiping her leftover tears with her sleeve, she took a long, uneven breath and raised her hands in a gesture that calmed the crowd with ease.

“Alright, that’s enough,” said Aama sternly. The surrounding townsfolk immediately complied and became progressively quieter. Once the tavern became silent enough, she then went back to focusing on Aalik and Inigo.

Aalik inwardly cursed at himself for his premature sense of victory as Aama resumed her judgmental glare. Instead of reprimanding him however, Aama let out a sigh of resignation and diverted her sight towards the rest of the tavern, grimacing at the veritable mess as if it just dawned upon her.

“…Speaking of rabble, I think this place could use a little do over,” Aama said absentmindedly before facing Aalik once again. “It would be quite discourteous of us to leave this mess as it is, wouldn’t you agree Aalik?”

Her tone was not really that of a question. Aalik knew better of course and merely followed his mother’s implicit orders. Inigo tried to do so as well, in spite of his fresh injuries hampering his gai, but Aama’s gentle grip on his shoulder prevented him from going any further from the chair he was sitting in.

Before Inigo could try to reason with her, Aama too sat down, abruptly. Her breathing became harsh and weary, more than it had been when she entered the pub. As soon as he heard her gasping, Aalik, who was picking up chairs and tables with the rest of the crowd, let go of the chair he had been carrying and bolted.

“Quick Aalik, get some water!” said Inigo. He gave a passing glance to the tavern owner who complied without a word.

Aalik went over to the counter and waited for the man to fill up a mug. Right as the man finished, Aalik jumped and took the mug from his hands. He ran, placing his hand over it to keep the water from spilling, and gave it Aama. She drank from it, not stopping until the fire-like sensation in her throat subsided.

As she slowly regained her composure, Aama reassuringly placed her hand on Aalik's shoulder, giving him a weak but earnest smile. “I’m alright sweetheart, don’t worry,” said Aama, her voice barely a whisper. “Please go help the others.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” said Inigo. Aalik reluctantly nodded, never taking his sight away

from Aama even as he returned to cleaning the tavern.

A while passed and the pub slowly but surely began to recover from the recent scuffle. The tavern owner even took the initiative and brought some rope from the wine cellar in order to tie up the unconscious thugs.

“Had to fill that place up with something, not much wine left with these harvests,” said the owner to the rest of the tavern with a hint of regret.

“I’ll help you out!” said Aalik as he carefully picked up the broken remains of a chair and placed them in a pile.

“Make sure you don’t leave any loose ends!” replied the tavern owner, passing on some of the rope to Aalik.

 _Just because I don’t fish anymore doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how to tie a knot..._ Aalik grumbled inwardly. He walked over to the thug with a bucket over his head. He held back a grin as he stared at the sight, filled with a sense of pride. He then tied up the man’s wrists at breakneck speeds and with superb expertise.

“Serves you right,” said Aalik aloud.

After finishing his knotwork on the thug’s wrists, Aalik then went over to tie up the man’s ankles. However, at that moment, something strange caught Aalik’s eye. It was a yellowish piece of parchment hanging from one of the man’s belt pouches. In fact, Aalik remembered that the thug’s hands almost seemed as if they were trying to reach for the item before he tied them up.

Without giving it a second thought, the boy grabbed it and held the parchment close, hiding it from the rest of the tavern. It packed a smell similar to some of his mother’s books, those with yellow pages worn away by the passage of time, but this was magnitudes above that.

 _Must be old,_ Aalik thought. As he unfolded the parchment, his imagination began to run wild. The details were faded but recognizable nevertheless. Trajectory lines, archaic cartography, sprawling forests and mountaintops and at the end of the path, atop of what seemed to be an enormous peak, lay the drawing of a pentagon with flowered vines all around it.

 _A treasure map!_ Aalik screamed internally with disbelief.

He could not make out all of the details however, as familiar as some of the landmarks seemed. Then, all of a sudden, a loud slam reverberated around the tavern, breaking Aalik’s concentration and drawing the attention of everyone else in the pub. Clinking footsteps followed as one of the four breastplate wearing men entering the tavern made his presence known.

“Alright, where’s the riff-raff?” said the rotund man, sporting a honey-glazed moustache with bits and pieces of breadcrumbs spread throughout. No one responded, not out of fear but rather indignation at the town guard’s convenient appearance. The round guard cared little for the townsfolk’s indifference though and merely rolled his eyes.

“About time you louts showed up,” the tavern owner said derisively, “been stuffing your face again I take it?”

“We were just having lunch break, my good man,” responded the guard absentmindedly as he wiped off the remaining crumbs. The round soldier soon noticed the tied up thugs and an amused smile began showing on his face.

“Now that’s some small town hospitality if I’ve ever seen any! We’ll be taking them off your hands, if you don’t mind,” he said with a mockingly sweet tone, gesturing to the three other guards as they began dragging the ruffians outside one by one.

Upon hearing this, Aalik swiftly folded the map and hid it in his trousers, using his shirt as additional cover. He finalized his knotwork on the thug’s ankles with utmost haste and returned to Aama and Inigo, watching the town guard slowly take away the remaining ruffians. Once the town guard had taken away every single one of the thugs, they promptly left the tavern. Their leader was the last one to leave, but not without making yet another mocking remark.

“The crown thanks you for your cooperation,” the guard said with an irksome smirk etched across his face, before slamming the door as he left.

The air around the tavern became sullen as everyone went back to cleaning the place. Comments about the guard’s “impeccable timing” spread throughout the pub. Grunts of angered impotence replaced Inigo’s groans of pain, but Aama’s tired smile and gentle touch on his shoulder managed to calm him down.

The hours flew by until the pub finally became presentable. During all that time, Aalik could not take his mind away from the map. Questions arose endlessly even when noon arrived and they had left for the Inn.

_Where did it come from? Where did that thug get it? Where does it lead you? What's with that pentagon?_

These and many more doubts plagued Aalik’s thoughts and fueled his imagination, so much so that he found it hard to fall asleep that night . Watching the map before going to bed did not help matters either. Even when he finally succumbed to fatigue, his dreams were of adventure and thrill, traversing through the deepest corners of the mysterious map, alive and alert for whatever lied ahead.

* * *

“Can I see the map?” asked the son tiredly, before letting out a stifled yawn.

“Um, yeah about that…I haven’t actually drawn one yet,” his father bashfully replied and shrugged. He tried his best not to fall prey to the contagious yawning, failing spectacularly.

“Does that mean you will? Eventually?” asked his son, his eyelids drooping more and more with every passing moment.

“I’ll see what I can do, but only if you go to sleep! Just because you’re gonna skip school tomorrow doesn’t mean you can stay up past your bedtime!” the father said in a scolding manner, betrayed by his tired but kind smile. He grabbed the pages and walked to the door.

“Dad,” asked the son, who was now almost completely covered in blankets. His father turned around, raising his eyebrows in an inquisitive manner. “Is Aama going to be alright?” the son asked, giving his father a puzzled look. The father remained silent for a few seconds.

“Of course she will, don’t worry about it,” he replied and gave his son another tired smile. “Goodnight son.”

“Goodnight dad,” said the boy.

With that, the father turned off the light, left the room and shut the door.


	7. Chapter 6: Vultures

** Chapter 6: Vultures **

The last days of summer were upon Fitcherdorf. The northern winds arrived at the coast, making the bone-chilling waves from weeks ago seem like a pleasant memory. Still this did not bother the townspeople in the slightest. Besides being used to the seasonal change, the incident at the tavern had sparked a sense of morale and joy amongst them, pushing the cold to the back of their minds.

Inigo and Aalik had too felt this change since. From higher payments to complimentary home-cooked meals. Most impressively however, was the change of attitude of the townsfolk towards Inigo. Gone was the untrusting vibe, now replaced by one of respect. In addition, while some remained wary of him they no longer spoke ill of the man behind his back. Even Esben found himself exchanging words with him and though it never went beyond the usual “good morning, good afternoon and goodnight”it was more than enough to paint a smile on Inigo’s face.

Aalik was of course, rather pleased about the recent turn of events. The town’s praise harkened him back to simpler, happier times, a bittersweet remembrance but one he cherished regardless. On top of all of that as well, was the map, which filled his mind with recurrent daydreams. Whenever possible he would make up adventures as he worked, only to fuel the anticipation of returning home to continue admiring the mysterious parchment.

Today was no different. After all, giving a do-over to the town healer’s shop was far from Aalik’s idea of fun. Especially since some of the old woman’s potions left nigh on invulnerable spots of grime on the floor, which even Inigo had troubles dealing with.

Aalik scrubbed the floor in a mind numbing motion, to the point where he felt as if he were being lulled into a deep sleep, despite the sun shining brightly overhead on the shop’s porch. Aalik nearly dozed off but snapped back, letting out a stifled yawn before resuming his monotonous duties.

“There has to be a way to speed things up…” Aalik grumbled to himself, trying his best not to fall asleep on the spot. Suddenly, a flash of brilliance overtook him, putting a knowing smirk on his face.

_“-Of course there is-”_

_Lightning flared the pitch-black sky as it pummeled the ocean with incessant rain. Giant waves rolled and crashed, swallowing everything in their path, everything but a lone unwavering vessel that fought against nature itself. It dodged mountain-like waves, narrowly dodging death with each precise maneuver._

_Atop the ship, masterfully steering the wheel, was none other than Captain Aalik of the Sawfish_

_Buccaneers! Legendary swashbucklers and the terror of kingdoms and rival pirate crews everywhere!_

_It had been long tortuous weeks since they had found the mystical map and embarked on the quest to uncover the mysteries of the secret island. The treacherous path towards the fabled destination had not been easy. Countless pirates and treasure hunters had fallen prey to its deadly trails and all those that had managed to escape its clutches returned within an inch of their lives, as husks of their former selves, never daring to set foot on shallow waters ever again._

_Still, this did little to daunt the Captain and his world-renown crew. Nothing could stand in their way, for far beyond the thought of riches was their insatiable thirst for adventure. After hours of taming waves, the storm finally began to clear. Sunlight broke through the cloudy fortress, illuminating the glorious sight up ahead. Legends and myth could only do it so much justice._

_“Captain Aalik! We made it!” cried a nameless cabin boy, his eyes overflowing with tears of joy._

_A wide smile spread across Captain Aalik’s face, but it soon warped into a worrying frown as a rumble began to shake the entire ocean. A less talented seafarer would have mistaken the noise and tilting waves for an earthquake, but the legendary Captain was a cut above even the most wizened of sailors. This was no mere shifting of tectonic plates._

_“Avast ye! Prepare for battle!” Captain Aalik shouted at the top of his lungs._

_The rumbling grew louder as if the ocean itself was cracking._

_The ship plunged from side to side, nearly keeling over, but Captain Aalik’s peerless handling of the steer kept it afloat. The crew readied blades and cannons. Seconds became eternity, as Captain Aalik remained ever alert for the hidden menace._ _Then, all of a sudden, water rose between the ship and the island, pushing the vessel away from its goal. There was a deafening crash of waves as a looming bulbous shape rose from the rising waters, blocking the entire view of the island._

_The deep-sea creature’s face had scars in every inch and corner, surrounding its bloodshot eyes and razor sharp jaws. Even the fearless pirate crew found themselves staring in awe and heavily contained terror at the colossus._

_“Let’s give this beast a fight to remember!” shouted Captain Aalik while steering the wheel, trying to regain control of the ship. Once the vessel stabilized, he sailed straight towards the monster._

_The creature bared its fangs and let out a deep guttural roar, shaking the entirety of the ship and everyone aboard. Its eight limbs rose from the depths, surrounding it like an impenetrable wall._

_Each one of its tentacles wielded a colossal blade, capable of slicing through entire armadas in a single swipe._

_Captain Aalik’s crew looked uneasy but the war cry of their captain, still ringing in their ears, galvanized their spirits. The monster’s eyes widened in surprise at the pirate’s foolhardy approach, though its expression quickly changed from that of amazement to annoyance. The creature then let out a booming sigh before opening its maw._

“Aalik!”

“Huh? What? Where? What happened?” the daydreaming boy gasped, looking around and seeing an intrigued Inigo, who sat at one of the two rocking chairs, in the opposite, now fully clean, side of the porch.

“You’ve been scrubbing that spot for a while now,” said Inigo with a speculative eyebrow. "Everything okay?”

“What? Oh yeah! These potions sure leave a nasty mark!” Aalik laughed nervously. He tried not to stare at the sparkly clean spot where the grime used to be, in sharp contrast to the rest of the floor floor from his side of the porch.

“You’ve been dozing off quite a bit lately, something on your mind?” Inigo asked with underlying curiosity.

“Oh no, I’m just tired. Guess helping you guys deal with those thugs must have taken its toll on me….you know…..adrenaline…and…stuff,” Aalik mumbled, ignoring the fact that it had been weeks since the incident. Hindsight hit him harder that any imaginary waves could.

Having heard Aalik’s double-layered lie, Inigo began to eye him suspiciously. Taking note of this, Aalik tried to end the conversation by resuming his cleaning duties, doing his best to ignore Inigo’s scrutinizing glare.

Inigo’s questioning look soon became a knowing smile, which of course skyrocketed Aalik’s newfound paranoia. _He can’t know about the map, don’t be ridiculous Aalik…..but what if he noticed when I took it from that thug? No! He was taking care of mom, why would...unless..._

“…Is it…that girl from the docks? What was her name again, Kini? Kiri?” Inigo asked as he stroked his moustache, snapping Aalik out of his internal struggle. The boy looked dazed for a moment, shaking his head, before staring at Inigo, dumbfounded.

“Huh?” asked Aalik, taking a while to register most of what Inigo said. “….Wait what? Kiiki? What? No!”

“Really now? Haven’t you noticed?” questioned Inigo, clearly taking amusement infrom Aalik’s overblown reactions. “Even before we took care of those thieves she’s always gone out of her way to get your attention! You should at least thank her more often for those homemade lunches she loves to make you.”

“Eww, you’re talking like my mom, stop that! Kiiki is just a friend,” Aalik harrumphed as he cleaned the rest of the floor, scrubbing with just a little bit more strength and intensity than necessary.

“If you say so, though I’m sure you won’t mind so much eventually!” Inigo laughed with much mirth. Aalik feigned deafness and kept on scrubbing. Proud of the results, Inigo laid back on the rocking chair and relaxed. That was, until Aalik’s angry grunts broke Inigo’s peace.

“Ugh!” Aalik nearly shouted. “How can someone live like this? Wouldn’t surprise me if the old lady needed some of her own potions,” he said disdainfully.

“Now now, just because someone is a bit…eccentric and….untidy doesn’t mean you should speak about them that way. You know that,” said Inigo, not sternly but still trying to call out Aalik for his comment. “Besides, she’s always helping people whenever she can. Aama more than anyone.”

“Yeah, I know,” sighed Aalik with regret, giving Inigo a quick glance before shifting his attention back to the run down floor.

Inigo stared at the sullen boy with concern, scratching his head, trying to come up with a way to liven up the mood. A wide grin showed itself on Inigo’s face but he quickly hid it when he called for Aalik. “Aalik!” Inigo said, strongly enough to get Aalik’s attention. Aalik turned and looked at Inigo.

“What about that Maja girl? Ever since you helped out at the tavern she’s been making a lot of visits to the inn,” inquired Inigo, barely containing his smile. “She’s even helped out your mother with some of the chores. Such a nice young lady, wouldn’t you say?”

Aalik closed his eyes and began to breathe slowly through his nose. He gritted his teeth with every inhalation and exhalation. Eventually his teeth gritting stopped and he let out a loud scream-

* * *

“Daaaad!” cried out the son, who then took the last bite of his breakfast. Even if chocolate flavored donut cereal was his favorite, it did little to calm him down, his mood further reinforced by his angry munching.

“What? What is it? What’s the matter?” said the father with feigned surprise, which his son immediately noticed while chewing down the last bite of cereal.

“What’s with all this dad talk? It’s embarrassing enough to hear it from you and now I have to hear it from Inigo too?” said the son, pouting and frowning.

“I don’t see what the big deal is, makes it feel more authentic, wouldn’t you say?” the father replied, amused at his son’s reaction.

“Fantasy is supposed to be that, fantasy!” countered the boy with crossed arms, “…not dad talks.”

“You’d be surprised. Life has a way of seeping into a lot of things, not just fantasy,” the father calmly answered back. His words had taken some form of effect on his son, who began to look thoughtful, his frown and pout fading almost entirely. It was a short-lived pause however.

“Ugh, can’t we just skip over to the next part?” the boy practically begged while placing the cereal bowl to the side and plopping down on the bed.

“Alright, alright, I’ll humor you,” the father replied, taking a sip of his extra-sweetened coffee and skimming through the pages. “Now, where was I?”

* * *

The inn’s new guests had left by sunrise, leaving only two remaining people inside. Two women sat at a table in the common room; they were having an ongoing conversation ever since the elder of the two had arrived.

The older woman’s rambunctious laughter filled the room, and would have still done so even if it had been full. In spite of her snow-white hair, wrinkles and worn down brown cloak, there was a lively energy about her.

“And then he has the nerve to call me a witch? Can you believe that?” the old woman said aloud. She laughed and gestured to the innkeeper at the other side of the table, no doubt trying to add to her sense of indignation.

Aama’s chuckling was restrained but joyful nevertheless. “Growing hair out of your tongue does seem like a noteworthy side effect,” Aama responded while stirring her tea. She gave it a long drink, trying her best to control the gagging sensation.

The older woman laughed at Aama’s response. She grabbed her ale mug and drank the whole thing in one swift gulp. The elder aahed with delight as she put the empty container back on the table.

“You’re all too kind! He wanted to grow more hair and gave him just that! Besides, he was just a passerby...and a very rude one at that,” the old woman muttered before she picked up her empty mug and walked up to one of the small ale barrels by the common room’s wall.

“Wait, let me get that for you,” Aama coughed, but before she could stand up the old woman raised her hand and stopped Aama in her tracks.

“Nope, shush. You stay put!” the old woman shouted chidingly while filling up the mug. “What part of resting don’t you understand Aama? My potions are the best around these parts, but they can’t do all the work you know?”

“I know. I just hate feeling so...helpless,” sighed Aama, sitting down and taking another sip of tea.

“And you’re going to hate that even more if you keep being this stubborn,” the old woman responded flatly and walked back to the table. Aama relented at the woman’s words and continued to drink her tea quietly. The old woman sighed, diverting her sight from the innkeeper while tapping the table with her finger. She then took another big gulp and shifted her attention back towards Aama.

“Look at the bright side, the whole town really turned itself around ever since that dashing stranger of yours dropped by,” the older woman said in a clearly teasing tone, waggling her thin eyebrows. “Even you started to smile more often for a change.”

“Oh hush Norna, stop saying nonsense,” Aama waved her hand dismissively, though her subdued smile did not go unnoticed by her friend.

“I’m just saying,” said Norna, raising her hands defensively. “Why, your boy Aalik is happier than ever, and that’s saying something!”

“Yes, he is,” Aama concurred, but her expression became solemn. “I just hope he doesn’t hate me for doing this.”

“You’ve made up your mind then?” asked Norna, looking surprised from hearing Aama’s words.

“I’ve been saving up for a while now, enough for a one way trip and a small residence, that will have to do,” said Aama.

“A while? I’ve been telling you to leave this wretched place for years now. You need the warmer weather, Aama,” Norna stated, her expression stern but kind. “I know how much this place means to you but…I’m just glad you came to your senses.”

“It wasn’t easy,” replied Aama, gazing at the table with nearly closed eyes. After a moment of silence and fiddling with her cup, she smiled. “I don’t suppose you could help me out with those tickets?” Aama asked Norna. “I’d rather not send Aalik to the black market. Inigo doesn’t even know about it.”

“Do you even need to ask?” Norna said, brimming with joy. “I’ll make sure to get you a special pass so you can take extra cargo with you. Just because I’ve taught you my recipes doesn’t mean you should let all those potions go to waste.”

“Thank you, Norna,” said Aama, her voice weak but very much heartfelt.

“No need to thank me. If my skin didn’t shrivel up so much under the sun, I’d love to join your little escapade,” Norna shivered at the statement, before switching back to her teasing tone. “I’m really going to miss that dashing spaniard of yours though.”

“Sure you will,” Aama rolled her eyes, but her amusement was not as subtle as her smile.

Norna cackled and slurped the remaining ale. As Norna smacked her lips, she noticed the shadow’s inside the inn becoming slightly longer. The afternoon sun was upon them. “Well I think your boys should be done cleaning up my mess by now,” Norna chuckled as she left the empty mug behind and went to the bar table. “I’ll be sure to let them know supper is ready.”

“Take care, Norna,” Aama said while watching the elder walk to the entrance of the inn. Norna looked back with a kind smile, nodded and left.

Norna’s shop was not far off from the Inn, but the walk always managed to do a number on her knees. She could only grunt as she felt her weary joints protesting, but she soldiered on regardless.

Besides, the thought of her friend finally breaking through and deciding to make a change for the better made each given step seem lighter than it really was.

Halfway through however, something began to feel off. The sparse sounds of chatter and townsfolk muffled and dispersed and the shutting of doors and slamming windows took their place. The air and afternoon shadows felt heavier. Norna’s walk came to a sudden stop. A rumbling noise began resounding in her ears. It was coming from the outer part of the village, near its entrance.

She did not need to turn around, for the dozens of galloping hooves and clanging metals gave away everything that she needed to know. Norna closed her eyes and kept on walking, intentionally ignorant to the recent arrival, every so often picking up the pace as best as she could.

The tax collectors had arrived.


	8. Chapter 7: Royal Decree

**Chapter 7: Royal Decree**

Inigo’s barrage of embarrassing questions had finally ended, much to Aalik’s relief. Cleaning so much grime and filth was already taxing enough without Inigo's incessant teasing. _He doesn’t_ _know about the map, that's good enough for me_ Aalik sighed inwardly. Once he finally finished, Aalik took a seat in one of the rocking chairs and admired the fruits of his labor. It almost seemed as if the healer had set up shop yesterday, or at the very least within the last week or so.

“Not bad,” remarked Inigo, feigning mockery. “Keep up the good work and you might be able to pull it off as fast as I do, by the time you’re my age.”

“Half your age, take it or leave it,” shot back Aalik with an exaggerated deadpan of his own, as he swung back and forth on the rocking chair. Aalik and Inigo chuckled, until Aalik’s growling stomach roared in protest.

“Right on time,” said Inigo while he stared at the afternoon sun and the slowly growing shadows of the village.

“Do we really have to wait? Can’t we just leave, it’s not like we left it halfway done or anything…” asked Aalik, who was on the brink of being both angry and hungry.

“Be patient, Aalik. Miss Norna told us to wait for her,” said Inigo. “Besides I’m sure you can handle an empty stomach just fine. Unless, that’s more daunting than battling brigands.”

Aalik scoffed but kept quiet, unable to find a way of cleverly responding due to his hunger. As he was no longer capable of even making up a daydreaming a scenario to pass the time, he opted to doze off instead. The repetitive motions of the creaking chair lulled Aalik and it almost made him forget about his grumbling belly, unfortunately for him, something else would disrupt his would be nap.

For a moment, Aalik disregarded the foreign sounds as nothing more than fuzzy mental background noise, that which signals the sweet embrace of dreams. However, it soon became clear that these noises were not of his own making and the image of clanging armor and galloping hooves began to flash in his mind.

Aalik’s eyes snapped wide-open and he shook off his remaining doziness. The faraway ruckus grew and grew, offsetting the pleasant waves from the coast. As he turned his head towards the source of the noise, Aalik saw Inigo standing by the porch fence and staring intently at the village. Inigo then turned back to face Aalik, his brows furrowed with worry.

Aalik bolted from the rocking chair and ran up to the fence, standing on tiptoes in order to get a better look. Desperation began forming on Aalik’s face as he saw the image of heavily armored soldiers and warhorses patrolling in the distance. A despaired whisper escaped the boy’s mouth “They’re here….”

“We have to go back!” cried Aalik, running off to the stairs, leaving his mop and bucket behind. Inigo followed suit without a word, both sprinting as fast as their legs could take them.

Aalik and Inigo ran through the back of the village, doing their best to remain unseen by the soldiers. After a few moments of stopping and sprinting, they saw a familiar shape from afar. She walked forcibly and unevenly but managed to maintain her frantic pace. Both Aalik and Inigo recognized Norna right away, but it took a few steps before she could do the same. Once her squinting gaze gave away the identity of the blurry duo, Norna waved and sped towards them.

“Thank the heavens you’re alright!” Norna gasped with relief. Her expression soon changed to one of urgency however. “You must hurry, Aama’s back at the Inn!”

“You left mom alone!” Aalik seethed through clenched teeth, as he balled up his fists. Inigo grabbed ahold of his trembling shoulder but he shook it off with a grunt. “How could you do that!” cried Aalik in a barely hushed shout as he pointed an accusatory finger at Norna.

“Those good for nothing royal dogs arrived when I was halfway through the village. I ran as soon as I saw them to tell you,” Norna replied sternly before shaking her head, as if to cut her words short. “We can’t chit-chat right now! You have to go!”

Aalik nodded begrudgingly. The boy loosened his fists and kept on walking with Inigo close behind. As they did, Inigo stopped and looked back at Norna, who kept on going. “You’re not going back there on your own are you?”

“They’ll wreck my place if I’m not there to answer the door,” Norna answered from afar with a voice as quiet as she could manage, she kept on without looking back. “Don’t worry about me! Just go!” the old woman said as she raised her hand in a shooing gesture.

Inigo complied and quickly went back to Aalik, who seemed far too focused and single minded to notice. The last part of the trek towards the inn was slow and grueling, the closer they got, the stronger the sounds of destroyed furniture and desperate cries became. A feeling of impotence swept over Inigo as he watched from afar, hidden by the building’s shadows. Families stripped from their meager wages and possessions, in amounts that even the vilest of rulers would find unnecessary. The fact that the soldiers blatantly enjoyed the situation only added further insult to injury.

Almost like a reflex, Inigo began to analyze the troops. He grimaced, for their equipment and superior numbers more than made up for their lack of discipline and apparent technique. There was no time to plan in order to compensate. Even with years of experience behind Inigo’s back, quick-witted strategy always seemed to escape him, compared to his bravado and swordsmanship.

“There’s too many…” Inigo whispered with regret. Aalik did not care for whatever it was Inigo said however, and kept on walking without giving the scene so much as a side glance.

As Inigo and Aalik approached the inn, a sight from afar caught their attention. An indifferent, placated Esben sat beside his home staring blankly at the horizon while the soldiers rummaged and ransacked whatever they could find in the run-down building. The demoralizing vision clung heavily in Inigo’s consciousness as he followed Aalik to the inn’s backdoor. If the sight had affected Aalik, then he did his best not to show it.

“Where are they? Aama kept asking herself. She tapped on the wooden table with dreadful anticipation. As soon as she had heard the chaos outside, she had carried herself to the front desk with considerable effort, in order to prepare for the tax collector’s inevitable arrival.

Even though her steely gaze was in full effect, it did little to cover up her distress. The tax collectors making a surprise visit to the town was not a foreign experience to Aama, but knowing that her son and Inigo were still out there, with a platoon of soldiers touting themselves as the iron grip of the law running amuck, now that didn’t do her any favors.

Before her anxiety started to make her façade crumble, Aama heard a familiar pair of footsteps from the backdoor of the inn. Her spirits rose as the smaller sounding of the two sprinted to the entrance and embraced her as soon as she saw him.

“Oh Aalik, thank goodness you’re alright,” Aama said softly, returning the hug and caressing Aalik's hair.

“We sneaked around town, no one saw us,” Aalik said reassuringly.

Shortly after, Inigo arrived at the front desk as well. Aama smiled at the man, but her happiness soon shifted into a frown. “You have to hide,” she demanded in a whisper. Inigo replied with a grin of his own.

“Nonsense, madam, I am merely a guest. Why should there be a problem?” Inigo said mirthfully as he walked up to one of the barrels in the common room and filled up a leftover mug from one of the tables.

“This is no time to act brave. These men don’t take kindly to strangers, or anyone for that matter!” Aama said, growing steadily annoyed. Her words fell on deaf ears, for Inigo sat down at one of the tables and began to drink the cheap ale with much gusto, ignoring her warnings.

“Inigo! Inigo! Listen to me!” Aama pleaded.

“I’ll stay here too,” said Aalik, drawing his mother’s furious gaze.

“Aalik! _please_ …not now,” Aama sighed and closed her eyes, rubbing her temples.

“We’re not leaving you alone, mom. You can ground me till next winter if you want to, but I ain’t moving!” Aalik responded adamantly.

Aama opened her eyes and glared at her son. After a pregnant pause, Aama replied with a terrifyingly calm voice, breaking through Aalik’s bravado. “Make that _two_ winters, young man. Now go upstairs and-“

_Knock Knock Knock_

The spitefully melodic knocking of the door froze the very feeling of the inn. From Aalik’s diminishing resolve to Aama’s growing anger, both extinguished as if a tidal wave had washed away a pair of candles by the coastline. Aama turned her sights towards the entrance, taking in a deep breath before finally answering back.

“Come in.”

The door creaked as it opened, revealing the inn’s latest patron. The man entered the building with an air of feigned cordiality around him. Two comparatively indifferent soldiers soon followed, their visor helmets covering the upper half of their faces. Not only did the man’s intricately ornate breastplate armor and clothing set him apart from his mundane looking underlings, so did his lack of a helmet and an ear-to-ear grin. Subtlety was all but lost in it, for it was the smile of a snake.

“Good afternoon, Aama!” The daintly looking man greeted, exaggeratedly. He bowed at the innkeeper, who found his show of manners rather tiresome.

“Afternoon Flemming,” Aama replied flatly.

“It has been a while hasn’t it? I almost forgot the rustic charm of this…lovely establishment,” Flemming said with an elaborate hand gesture, looking around in mock admiration of the building, his grin ever-present.

“Get to the point, Flemming,” Aama said, tiredly.

“Never one for small talk were you, Aama? My visits are rather sporadic you know; one would think you’d start treating the occasion with a bit more…importance,” Flemming said, walking to the front desk with a decidedly regal step.

Aalik, trying to recover some of his lost bravado, tried to imitate his mother’s glare, directing it at Flemming. However, it seemed that he had yet to master the skill, for not only did it fall flat, but Flemming’s unnerving gaze also caused him to retreat behind Aama.

Aama took immediate notice of this and placed a reassuring hand over her son’s shoulder, as if shielding him. She searched through the desk for a sizeable coin bag hidden in one of the drawers and put it on top of the table. Flemming sniffed at the sight. “There, that will cover it,” Aama said and pushed the coins towards Flemming.

The man took the bag and weighed it. Flemming’s expression retained his signature grin but it had gained an air of disapproval. He shook his head. “I’m terribly sorry, Aama. I’m afraid this modicum amount will not do,” Flemming said and handed over the bag to one of his subordinates.

“What?” Aama said, dumbfounded.

“Didn’t you hear? Well it is not as if you fellows out here in the sticks could know. You see Aama; the military suffered some dire losses recently. A formerly high ranking officer’s…vanity project, if you will, went a bit out of hand and well, let’s just say demotion was far too kind of a punishment if you ask me,” Flemming said, frowning in disapproval. “Chasing a sole pirate crew out of mere bloodlust, can you believe that? Such lack of vision, why, the ocean should have just _swallowed_ him up, but alas, some men are graced upon by fate.”

Upon hearing Flemming’s words, a cold shiver ran through Inigo’s spine and he tried to keep the ale from bursting out of his mouth. The cold feeling soon turned into an overbearing pang of guilt building in his stomach. Flemming’s selective ignorance of him, despite sitting in plain sight, removed any sense of panic from Inigo, but it did little to appease the feeling of impotence that consumed him.

“We don’t have anything else to give you,” Aama said calmly, earning a particularly loud chuckle from Flemming.

“I beg to differ, Aama,” Flemming said, raising his thin eyebrows with amusement. He placed a hand on the front desk and leaned slightly towards the woman. “You were never a good liar, a tad better than the rest of this sorry town for sure, but that’s not saying much, is it?”

Aama did not budge; her gaze was unwavering. Slow as melting ice, Flemming’s smile dissipated, replaced by a bitter, apathetic expression. He raised a signaling hand and the two soldiers marched towards the common room. They did not seem to care for Inigo’s presence, other than to sneer at him derisively, and they began to look around, inspecting their surroundings.

“Search the place. Leave nothing unturned,” Flemming commanded absentmindedly, his sight never leaving Aama for a moment. The woman’s iron mask cracked, revealing her previously hidden anxiety, much to Flemming’s glee.

Right on cue, the soldiers began to dismantle the common room. They broke barrels, mugs and tables. Inigo gritted his teeth as he stared at the soldier’s sickening glee at their wanton destruction. The spilled ale soon reached Inigo’s boots and its smell spread throughout the chamber. From the corner of his eye, Inigo could see Flemming’s face warping with disgust.

“Nothing here, sir!” one of the underlings said while rummaging behind the bar.

“Well don’t just stand there you louts, search the rest of the building!” Flemming barked, gagging noticeably at the smell.

Aalik, who had remained partially hidden behind his mother, felt a dread welling up inside of him as the soldiers passed on by. It was unlike any other he had experienced in his life, almost unnatural in a way. Compared to what he had gone through in his life, all of his hardships including the one occurring just now, nothing could measure up to the dread he now felt, and the thought alone perturbed him deeply.

The feeling kept on calling. A desperate cry gnawed in the back of his mind until it overtook his thoughts, pulsating and growing.

**_“-The Map, The Map, The Map, The Map, The Map, The-”_ **

Flashing like vivid afterimages, Aalik saw himself leaving the map in its usual hiding spot, inside his worn down mattress. It was more than just a memory; the images in one’s head were a habit, this was a vision beyond his control.

**_“-No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No-”_ **

Aalik’s legs began to wobble. His breathing became uneven and shaky, as the pulses muddled his thoughts. Taking notice of this, Aama pulled him into an embrace. She spoke words of comfort to him, trying to ease his troubled emotions, but it was all for naught, the voice was louder.

“We found something, sir!” one of the soldiers shouted from afar.

“Baubles? Trinkets? Coins? What? What is it? Speak up!” Flemming shouted back, disdainfully ignoring the scene happening in front of him.

Right on cue, both soldiers arrived at the front desk. One was holding a medium sized coffer filled with gold coins and small pieces of jewelry. The other held an elongated cloth wrapping, tied down by a firm string. Taking the mysterious, wrapped object from his underling, Flemming quickly cut off the thread with an ornate dagger. He slowly removed the folds of cloth, revealing the artifact beneath. Flemming’s eyes widened in shock, while Aama and Inigo merely stared, powerless and aghast.

Aalik on the other hand felt a relief. As soon as the soldier’s had shown their findings, the voice that had tormented him faded away in the blink of an eye. The feeling of peace dulled his rage and he had no idea why.

“I never thought you would be into weapon collecting, Aama…such fine craftsmanship,” Flemming mused, analyzing the blade in his hands with utmost care. ”Where did you get this?”

“It was a gift,” Aama said offhandedly, no longer facing the man’s head on. Her voice was quiet and slow.

Flemming sniffed at Aama’s short words, but his snide grin still managed to reappear. Flemming then wrapped the sword again within the cloth and placed it on his belt.

“Well, in any case, this remarkable piece of weaponry might just be able exempt you from future taxes, just might anyway,” Flemming said spitefully, walking back to the entrance of the inn, with his subordinates close behind. As Flemming waited for one of the soldiers to open the door, he gave a quick glance at the downtrodden woman. Flemming spouted no words whatsoever but his smile was proud, even livelier than it had been when he had arrived.

They left the inn. A loud slam reverberated throughout the silent building, offsetting nothing but the faint trickling of spilled alcohol and Aama’s muffled sniffing. Bolting from his seat, Inigo immediately ran towards Aama and Aalik, whom embraced desperately.

As moments passed, Aama’s sobs and Inigo’s words of solace were nothing but background noise to Aalik. As soon as he had heard the laughter of Flemming and his men, the sheer joviality of it, something snapped, silencing everything else. The voice wanted to call out once more, wishing to douse his latent emotions, but Aalik pushed it aside to the back of his mind. It tried to fight back desperately, but for the first time since he had picked up the parchment, Aalik’s voice was stronger.

“AALIK! STOP!”

Aama’s cries were barely audible for Aalik, who broke away from her embrace and sprinted towards the door, throwing it wide open.

“Citizens! The crown requests your attention!” Flemming’s loud demands resounded throughout the village. The afternoon sun casted a deep shadow on the man’s face, exaggerating his ghoulish features.

The entire group of tax collectors were all mounted and prepared for their departure. Flemming rode atop a pristine white stallion, making him stand out even further from the rest of his subordinates.

Stashed within the carriage close by, were the collected riches of the townsfolk. It appeared to be a frustratingly low sum, according to the complaints of some of the soldiers guarding it. On top of the taxes, four tied-up men lay tossing and turning. The largest of them nearly threw down some of the bags during these struggles, until a soldier promptly knocked the brigand out with a blow from the handle of his warhammer. Upon seeing this, the three other men ceased their respective complaints and kept quiet.

“Have no fear, citizens! Your taxes have been accounted for, and this rabble shall be taken back for further interrogation,” Flemming stated proudly, but no response came from the village, which seemed almost deserted. Frustrated with the townsfolk’s unresponsiveness, Flemming took in a deep breath.

“STOP!”

The flabbergasted faces of Flemming and the small army shifted to the source of the scream. It was none other than Aalik, running up to them, all the while glaring daggers at Flemming.

“Who do you think you are!” shouted Aalik, standing a couple of feet away from the mounted men. There was a mixture of mockery and amusement coming from the group of soldiers. All except Flemming, who remained impassive at the Aalik’s fit of rage.

“You think you can just come here and take whatever you want? Just like that!” cried Aalik, swaying his pointing hand around, giving special attention to an unimpressed Flemming.

“Little brat,” one of the soldiers by Flemming’s side growled deeply, but Flemming’s raised hand kept him from going any further.

“You’re not soldiers! YOU’RE NOTHING BUT BULLIES AND THIEVES!” Aalik shouted, and, unbeknownst to him and the army, several windows and doors around the village began to open, slightly.

Flemming’s characteristic grin resurfaced and as swiftly as he had raised his hand, he placed it back on his saddle. The soldier grinned wickedly and dismounted.

Aalik glared at the soldier, his stance unflinching at the man’s approach. There was a pause between the two, now standing side by side, as Aalik kept on glaring at the soldier’s covered face, while the soldier kept on sneering. Then, abruptly, the soldier kicked him in the gut and slammed him into the ground, nearly knocking the breath out of him.

“That’ll teach you, _runt_ ,” spat the soldier.

Aalik struggled under the pressure of the man’s boot, trying to shake it off, to no avail. However, as the man laughed and turned his head to look back at the rest of the army, as if to share the amusement, a blunt object suddenly struck the soldier right in the chin.

Despite the staggering blow and the trickle of blood flowing from his lower lip, the soldier quickly regained his composure and turned back in fury at Aalik, who still tried to push the man’s boot away. Once Aalik realized the soldier was glaring ragefully at him, he merely matched it with his own.

“How’s the tooth?” Aalik spat back with a grin.

Upon hearing Aalik's words, the confused soldier moved his tongue around to feel his denture. Something was missing. A quick scan of his surroundings made the man’s glare stop on a bloodied rock, and his equally marred tooth by its side.

Aalik grunted and cried out in pain, as the furious soldier pressed his chest further. His grip was weakening and he could feel the ground pushing on his back more and more. Then, with a sickening crunch, the pressure ceased, along with the jovial air of the rest from the army. Aalik groaned and looked around, only to see the soldier laying on the ground clutching his chin in pain, blood overflowing from the man’s fingers. A considerably larger rock than the one he threw lay near the soldier, along with several more of the man’s teeth.

“What?” Aalik asked aloud as he gasped for breath, clutching his bruised chest.

As if in cue, a rugged, callous hand extended itself towards him. Aalik instinctively grabbed it and got up with its help. Once Aalik’s vision cleared, the image of his helper became clear.

“Mr. Esben?” Aalik said weakly, still wincing from the pain. Esben gave him a kind smile before frowning and turning his gaze back at the astonished soldiers.

“You should all be ashamed of yourselves, especially you, Flemming,” Esben said in a low, cold voice, unlike anything Aalik had ever heard before. None of the soldiers spoke beyond hushed whispers. There was a moment of uncertainty amongst them until Flemming took the reins.

“That’s Commander Flemming to you, old dog,” Flemming replied, closing the distance between them with his steed. He tried to match the Esben’s tone, but it came off as exasperated.

“Commander huh? Guess they’ll promote anyone these days,” Esben responded sardonically, earning an eye twitch from Flemming.

As soon as Flemming reached Esben, the wounded, gap-toothed soldier crawled and ran back to join his ranks. Esben snorted at the pitiful sight, while Flemming remained focused on Esben

“I could easily have your tongue for this insolence, you know that full well,” said Flemming.

“Go ahead. You and your sorry excuse of a prince have already taken enough from me,” Esben shot back, his neck arching to face Flemming properly, eye to eye. “Leave the kid alone.”

“And there you go again with your misnomering. I strongly suggest you have a little bit more respect for his majesty,” Flemming chided mockingly, disregarding Esben's demand as if it lacked importance.

“What? What are you talking about?” Esben questioned with a puzzled look.

“Our beloved, former ruler, bless his soul, passed away a short while ago. Terrible thing really,” Flemming answered facetiously, a mockery of grief ingrained in his voice.

Esben’s eyes widened in surprise, his mind still trying to process the news of the old king’s passing. After a short moment, he shook his head in disapproval and scoffed. “Not that it makes much of a difference. That _king_ of yours already had the whole place under his thumb.”

“Maybe we should draft you this time around, washed up retiree or not. Who knows? Perhaps that will do to temper your tongue,” Flemming said derisively but Esben remained silent, unfazed about his threats. Flemming then began to hear the sounds of whispers, creaking doors and windows. What were but a few peeking faces, were now dozens and dozens of people standing outside of their homes, glaring disdainfully at the army. Some picked up rocks of their own, while others began voicing their discontent. Slowly but surely the people rose.

“Aalik!” Aama’s voice sounded from afar, drawing everyone’s attention. She went towards Aalik, with Inigo by her side, who helped her walk.

Aalik’s pain and rage whisked away, as he felt his mother’s warm embrace. Without a second thought, the boy fell to his knees alongside Aama and returned the hug.

Flemming eyed the scene with contemptuous curiosity, scrutinizing the guest from the inn as he cared for both Aama and Aalik. 

“Don’t you have an announcement to make? _Commander_?” Esben said, referring to Flemming’s title with vicious mockery.

Spanned out of his train of thought, Flemming sniffed at Esben, before whipping the reins of his mount and returning with the rest of his battalion. He looked around town with disgust and raised his hand.

“Citizens of Fitcherdorf, rejoice, for your King has a decree for me to relay!” said Flemming. The people of fitcherdorf began to whisper and murmur between themselves, Flemming grinned. “Due to unforeseen difficulties, the crown has issued a ban on entry and departure from the mainland. Your mercantile operations will be heavily monitored from now on and any violation of these stipulations will be met with _severe_ punishment!” Flemming stated, dripping venom with every word that came out of his mouth.

The whispers died out completely and a barren silence took their place. There was no questioning, no defiance whatsoever, a pleasurable sight for the grinning commander.

“That shall be all for now, fellow citizens. As always, the crown deeply thanks you for your cooperation,” Flemming ended his speech, whipping his steed into full throttle. As swiftly as they had arrived, the tax collectors galloped away leaving a trail of dust in their wake.

The town was in shambles. Whatever morale they gained in weeks prior was now all but a faint memory. Aalik, still holding onto Aama, looked upwards to both her and Inigo, tears overflowing on his face.

“I-i’m s-sorry Mom, I’m sorry Inigo! I c-couldn’t do a-anything!” Aalik cried and hiccupped.

“What are you talking about, Aalik,” Aama asked. Her eyes were glassy, but the joy of knowing her son was safe was enough to keep some of the tears at bay.

“B-but your savings…y-your sword, they took it, they everything!” Aalik blubbered.

“It’s…just a sword, Aalik,” Inigo said, though the words escaped his mouth with slight difficulty. “What matters is that you and your mother are safe.”

Aalik did not believe him, his tears kept on flowing until Esben called for his attention.

“Aalik! Stop crying!" Esben shouted with a stony glare, contrasting with his genuine smile. "You stood up to those dogs on your own, and that’s something none of them will ever match.”

Aalik wiped his tears with his forearm. He closed his teary eyes and cherished the moment, against all that occurred, as if nothing else mattered, for it was the only thing he could do.


	9. Chapter 8: Decisive

**Chapter 8: Decisive**

The late autumn winds were the most fearsome Fitcherdorf faced in recent memory. Barely any fish surfaced in the increasingly frigid waters, and the anglers’ catch was nothing but menial as a result. Furthermore, the scar left behind by the forces and the decree of their newly crowned monarch was still very much an open, festering wound.

Defeat had replaced dread amongst the townsfolk. Aalik’s brief display of defiance had done little to sway the unforgiving winds and the vice-like grip of the kingdom, on the town’s livelihood and spirit. To say that the Inn had suffered the worst would have been a terrible understatement. From a lack of passersbys due to the controlled departure and entrance of the mainland, to a shortage of perishable income from the rest of the town. Even with Esben’s newfound charity, things did not bode well for its residents.

It took less than a few weeks for Aama to start resenting the ever-dropping temperatures. Despite Norna’s daily and free of charge visits to the Reus household, Aama’s condition still worsened. With Aama bedridden and growing steadily weaker, hopelessness began to consume Aalik, to the point where Inigo could no longer find it in him to raise Aalik's spirits.

Night fell over Fitcherdorf alongside the deathly wail of winter’s edge. Both Aalik and Inigo sat outside Aama’s room, waiting for Norna to come out and deliver the news about her wellbeing. Inigo watched a dull-eyed Aalik from the corner of his vision, completely inert to the world around him, and with that, only one thing rang true in his mind _Things can only get worse._

* * *

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Stop!” the boy abruptly interrupted.

“What, what is it?” responded the father, surprised by his son’s sudden shouting.

“What do you mean worse? How can things get worse? Wasn’t all that bad enough!” the boy questioned fervently, shooting an accusatory glare at his father.

“Well, you see-” the father tried to answer, but his son cut him off again.

“Aama was supposed to leave town before winter! Everything was set!” the boy angrily remarked, pausing before remembering another infuriating detail. “And what about Inigo’s sword? You can’t just tell me he’s gonna let that slide!”

The father remained silent, staring at his son with troubled comprehension. After a moment of thought, the man finally responded. “Sometimes things don’t go as planned, that’s just how-” the man calmly stated, but his son broke in.

“I don’t care! This isn’t _life_ , dad!”

The room went silent. The father’s eyes widened with shock at his son’s reaction. The boy then gasped with regret, surprised at his own outburst.

“I think it’s best if we leave it here,” the father said calmly, picking up the rest of the pages and walking to the door. However, his son’s cries kept him from leaving.

“Wait,” the boy said shakily. The father turned back to face his son, stony faced and with questioning eyebrows.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you,” the boy said, haphazardly answering his father’s silent inquiry.

With that, the father returned to his seat by the side of the boy’s bed.

“Do you want me to go on with this?” he asked quietly.

“…Yes…please,” the boy replied hoarsely.

The father nodded. He flipped through the pages and resumed his narration.

* * *

The creaking of the door alerted Inigo, while Aalik remained indifferent to it. Norna came out of the room and shut the door. She held an emptied potion bottle in one hand. Norna looked at Inigo with consternation, further accentuated by the growing bags under her eyes. The elder woman shook her head.

“She’s not getting any better,” Norna said mournfully.

“There has to be something you can do,” Inigo replied, a quiet undertone of hope in his voice. It did not go unnoticed by the healer, who gave him a small but kind smile.

“My potions are not what they used to be,” Norna replied regretfully.

“…What do you mean?” Inigo asked, curious about Norna's cryptic response. Norna however, merely sighed at his question, too tired to care about her slip of the tongue.

“It doesn’t matter now. I’ll do whatever I can,” Norna said before giving a set of instructions to Inigo. “Administer two doses of seaweed concentrate every three hours and make sure she drinks all of it. I’ll come back tomorrow to check on her, first thing in the morning.”

Inigo held a prying look as Norna finished her instructions but his sense of duty overcame that of curiosity. Having seen Inigo’s silent compliance, Norna made her way to the entrance of the inn.

“Wait!”

Norna stopped and looked back, along with Inigo. Aalik had walked up to her with a fierce look in his eyes and yet, somehow, Norna knew she was not to blame for Aalik's temperament.

“Aalik, what's wrong?” Norna asked. The same question coursed through Inigo’s thoughts but he chose to remain silent, as he stared from afar.

Aalik’s answer came in the form of grunts and murmurs, repeating himself as if he could not grasp whatever idea he was trying to elaborate. Both Norna and Inigo stared in bewilderment at Aalik’s display of gibberish until he huffed in frustration, picked something from inside his shirt and extended it towards Norna, with noticeable effort.

“What?” Norna questioned, glaring at the appearantly empty, clenched Aalik reached towards her.

Aalik stared with flared eyes at the sight and snarled. He began to flail his arm around wildly, trying to shake off whatever it seemed he was holding onto, to no avail.

“Ca….c’mon…you…y…stup…pees…of!” Aalik flailed erratically to the point that Inigo ran up to him and held both his shoulders in an attempt to calm him down.

“Aalik, what’s happening! What’s the matter with you!” Inigo cried. Aalik however, did not appear to notice Inigo’s concern and kept on thrashing and growling at whatever it was he held onto.

“I’ll….I’ll…..BURN YOU UP! YOU DIRTY PIECE OF CLOTH!” Aalik shouted, making a throwing motion with his now unclenched hand.

The sparse sound of parchment hitting the wooden floor caught both Norna and Inigo by surprise, the latter having released Aalik from his grasp. Barely a moment passed before whatever had hit the ground began to reveal its crumpled, deteriorated shape.

Norna’s expression shifted from surprise to that of horrified recognition, which Inigo took notice of, after seeing the formerly invisible parchment. Aalik on the other hand, looked relieved and almost victorious, as he crouched to pick up the map.

“Don’t listen to it!” Norna hissed and pushed Aalik back, while steering clear of the parchment as if it were a venomous snake.

Aalik resisted Norna’s push at first, until a cold feeling of realization hit him, causing him to step away from the map. Inigo then placed himself in front of Aalik, as if to shield him from the crumpled map.

“Where did you get this thing? Answer me Aalik!” Norna demanded as she picked up the map with the furthermost part of her fingernails and placed it inside of the empty bottle.

“I…I…,”Aalik stammered with discomfort and clutched his head, trying his best to recall fuzzy memories. “O-one of the thugs from the tavern had it…I just saw it and took it.”

Norna’s eyes widened in bewilderment upon hearing Aalik’s words. The woman fidgeted, nearly dropping the bottle as she wiped the sweat off her face.

“You’ve held it for so long, but how?” Norna asked, before shaking her head. “No matter, I’m taking it away.”

“Wait, Norna!” said Inigo. “What is that thing?”

Norna faced Inigo, her lips tightly shut. However, Inigo’s unrelenting gaze eventually broke through, earning a defeated breath from her. “It is cursed. It enthralls you, steals your thoughts and purpose…even with a strong enough conviction it will still corrupt you over time,” Norna stated quietly and gazed upon Aalik. “The fact that Aalik hasn’t gone stark mad is a miracle in and of itself.”

Inigo, unfazed by the Norna’s cautionary explanation, furrowed his brows in thought, until Aalik decided to break into the conversation.

“Then we should sell it!” Aalik said, so eagerly it felt like an act of desperation. “What, are you insane? Stop talking nonsense,” Norna replied, shooting a scolding gaze at Aalik.

“What nonsense? If we get more money, we could get more help. I mean, that map has to be worth something!” Aalik said, as he closed the distance between him and the bottled map, which Norna held tightly.

“Even if we did it would be pointless, my potions are helping your mother as much as possible. Regular remedies are no more effective than wild grass at this point,” Norna sighed with regret and closed her eyes. “Too much time has passed. It would change nothing.”

“T-the treasure! It might,” Aalik said, his eyes glassy with the telltall tale signs of tears, but Norna wasted no time cutting his words short, despite her own regret for doing so.

“There is no gold to be found at the end of that pointing arrow,” Norna said, her tone hushed but laced with iron.

“Then what is there?” Aalik cried, when suddenly a look of subconscious remembrance flashed through his eyes and everything around him ceased to be.

A shiver coursed through his body, chilling him to the marrow. The razor winds and deathly white snowstorm blurred his sight and sound and numbed his skin. Aalik was alone and adrift. Nothing but the raging storm accompanied him. He walked through the endless peaks, as if he knew nothing else, and every step on the piling snow drained what remained of his waning consciousness.

He had arrived. What had been impossible to grasp during his sleep and merely facsimiled in daydreams was now close, far too close. A glowing, sickish green light shone through the darkness. Like a resurging instinct, Aalik walked towards the source of the light, it swirled further and further with every step he took. It called to him, drowning whatever sense of panic screamed from the back of his mind.

Aalik stopped and stood face to face with the source of the unnatural light, a gigantic spinning crystal. Its pulse whispered at him every turn, calling him, pleading him to come forward. Aalik forced his arms still, but the pressure of the crystal was relentless. It was a battle of attrition and one that was lopsided.

“...Aa…lik...”

A far off voice called, muffled by the intensity of the snow and the crystal’s drone, but it was enough for Aalik to take a step back, the effort of which added to the growing weariness caused by the inclement weather and the crystal’s power.

“..Aa..l..i..k…!”

Another step and Aalik nearly fell over, but he used whatever sliver of strength remained in his legs and kept himself from tumbling into the snow. With it, the humming of the crystal grew louder and more erratic, to the point where it felt no more different from his own feelings of desperation.

However, his resistance soon waned and his legs gave out. Aalik fell and huddled himself, in a futile attempt to fight off the cold, as he lay on the piling mounds of snow. The hum grew to deafening strengths as his eyelids began to drop and the darkness blurred what remained of his vision.

Just when only a sliver of light remained in his fading sight, a loud rumbling shook Aalik and everything around him. The glow of the crystal flickered, as if it too were surprised by the shifting of the ground around it. The cold ceased, and so did the crystal’s call, gone as swiftly as it had come.

“AALIK!”

Aalik gasped for breath, having just recovered his sense of self. His body was like jelly and Inigo had to support him in order to keep him from falling into the inn floor.

Inigo shook his shoulders in worry. “Aalik! Are you alright?” cried Inigo.

Aalik moved around groggily, grasping his forehead due to a sharp headache. Slowly, but surely, he regained his footing and gestured Inigo to let him stand on his own. Inigo reluctantly complied, but still kept in a safe distance from Aalik, ready to help at any moment.

Once his vision had fully cleared Aalik turned to look at Norna. He saw her eyes were wide and sunken, clearly distressed from what just happened moments ago. “I saw it, something is up there, I saw it,” Aalik said with a thin voice.

Aalik’s revelation bore itself a question, one that Norna was reluctant to answer, so she remained silent. Norna stared at Aalik and tightened her lips, struggling to keep the words from escaping her mouth.

“Please, I need to know,” Aalik asked, and Inigo went up to stand by his side.

Norna’s remaining secrecy waned and crumbled under Aalik’s pleas and Inigo’s determined gaze. “Whatever it was you saw is a relic of a bygone era. It is an artifact that answers to the wills of whomever it finds...worthy, but at a terrible price,” she whispered.

“How come you know all of this?” Inigo asked, giving Norna yet another prying look.

“It has been around, long before I was born and longer than that still,” Norna said, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “At first its upkeep was barely noticeable in a world full of power and magic to draw from, but now...”

“That is what you meant about your magic, wasn’t it?” Inigo asked. Norna showed no more surprise than Aalik did to Inigo’s question, that is to say, none at all.

“Well, you’ve been around, haven’t you?” Norna chuckled and managed a thin smile, which soon vanished. “Things are not what they used to be Inigo, I think we both know that much.”

Inigo went quiet, a wistful look fell upon his eyes which Norna and Aalik took notice of, but did not comment on. His remembrance was short lived, for he soon regained his composure. “If there is a way, I will take it. You can be sure of it,” Inigo said staunchly.

“Fearless fool, stop making this harder than it needs to be,” Norna groaned at Inigo’s bravado.

“I will, as soon as I take my leave,” Inigo responded, undeterred, intentionally disregarding Norna’s warnings.

“I am not letting anyone throw their life away like that!” Norna shouted.

“I’ll seal this thing properly and throw it into the ocean, at least then it won’t give us any more trouble.”

“If that thing can help mom, then we should do something about it,” said Aalik, the strength of his voice steadily recovering with every word. “Please, we just need-”

“…Aa…alik”

Aama’s hushed whisper cut him short, and despite his still recovering legs, Aalik trotted towards her room. He opened the door and saw his mother, bedridden with near closed eyes. With visible strain Aama lifted her hand and gestured for Aalik to approach her, all the while she murmured his name. Aalik walked up to bed, ignoring the nearby stool despite the loud protest of his limbs.

Inigo and Norna soon followed and entered the room themselves, but Aalik paid them no mind. He focused on his mother, and holding onto her frail hand. He worried that he could hurt her if he grasped any harder.

“Mom?” Aalik asked.

Aama did not respond, instead, she smiled faintly and held Aalik’s hand tighter, mustering enough strength to caress his face with the other. Aalik was at a loss of words, a mixture of troubled emotions swirled inside him, but he pushed them aside.

“Mom…we found something,” Aalik hiccupped as he tried to keep his tears at bay. “There’s this map and there’s a treasure a-and magic, I-I saw it, I'm telling you-”

“A...alik,” Aama interrupted and coughed profusely. There was no anger in her voice, but Aalik silenced himself regardless. “Don’t worry Aalik…Inigo will take good care of you.”

A pit formed inside of Aalik’s stomach. The boy quivered and began to blurt out meaningless words until his thoughts properly took form. “Mom…what are you saying? You didn’t even let me finish. Listen, I have a plan!” Aalik cried. He then felt a hand over his shoulder, which ceased his explanations, but he did not turn his head.

“Let’s go Aalik, she needs to rest,” Inigo said quietly.

“ _Shut up_!” Aalik shouted, shaking off the man’s hand without even bothering to look at him. Aama’s smile was gone and her look became more tired with every passing moment. “Mom why aren’t you saying anything!”

“Aalik, listen to your mother, we’re doing everything we can,” Norna said calmly, without much of her usual bark.

“No, you can’t expect me to believe that! We _can_ do something about it, but you won’t even consider it!” Aalik responded furiously, as he spun to face both Norna and Inigo, his eyes reddened with tears.

“…Aalik,” Aama whispered. Aalik turned back, his glare softened but still there.

“Mom, please, you have to listen to me!” Aalik pleaded. Aama’s smile returned, but it was subdued, with an underlying look of acceptance. Aalik internally braced himself as the tears began to flow.

“…There is nothing we can do Aalik, and there is nothing wrong about that.”

Aalik did not hear Aama’s pleading whispers as he let go of her clinging hand, nor did he care about Inigo’s steps behind him. Whatever weakness remained in his body vanished as he ran away from the inn. The autumn winds did little to slow his crazed sprint, for he did not care about anything else at that moment.

Time blurred for Aalik, until he finally reached the coastal meadows at the east side of the village. Even beneath the night sky, the bushes were dried and colorless, bearing no berries whatsoever. The ocean breeze of the cliffside was chilling and unwelcoming. Unlike countless times before, he could no longer find solace from his solitude in this place.

The sloshing sound of the waves and the rustling of the brittle grass and bushes were offset by a succession of light footsteps over the sand, which stopped as soon as they were closest to Aalik. Once again, he did not bother to turn around.

“What do you want?” Aalik asked; his eyes stutck on the ocean’s horizon.

“Let’s go back, Aalik. Your mother is waiting for you,” Inigo replied quietly. Aalik shifted on the sand to face Inigo with an intense glare.

“No!” Aalik stood up and shook off the sand from his trousers with trembling hands. “I won’t! I couldn’t do anything before and now that something can be done none of you will let me…I just can’t…why…why can’t I change things Inigo?”

Aalik’s eyes were bloodshot and teary, his lips and legs quivered. Despite Inigo's apparent stoicism, it took him a great amount of effort to respond to the Aalik's question. “Aalik, sometimes, things are beyond our control and there is no shame in admitting that…as much as it may hurt,” said Inigo.

“…Why?” Aalik asked.

Inigo’s thoughts drifted and it seemed that he was no longer by Aalik’s side at all. “I’m afraid I don’t have the answer, that is just how things are,” Inigo murmured. Dissatisfied with his reply, Aalik sniffed and spun back to face the ocean.

“Well it shouldn’t be,” Aalik responded with a gruff.

Inigo walked to the edge of the rocky cliff, standing side by side with Aalik. His attention moved from place to place, taking in the entire scenery around him. “Hard to believe you dragged me all the way to the village from here,” Inigo said.

“Why does that matter?” Aalik rebuked.

“Why? You saved my life. You and your mother, you both did,” Inigo said while wearing a dry but very much earnest smile. “Why wouldn’t that matter?”

“I…” Aalik tried to respond but he found himself at a loss of words. His lips pursed and he returned to observing the ocean.

“You have changed things for the better. Before standing up to those soldiers, before helping me fight those ruffians and even before saving me when I washed ashore,” Inigo said, he knelt down and placed a hand on Aalik’s shoulder, who did not shake it off this time. “You’ve always been there for her Aalik, even when things changed for the worst,” Inigo stated with an unshakeable resolve. “And you have to be there for her now.”

Aalik’s cried and sniffed, but kept his mouth shut. He hiccupped and wiped his tears with his sleeve. He looked towards the ocean once more, before facing Inigo.

“Let’s go,” said Aalik.

The walk back to the inn was quiet and brisk, no one was outside their homes and the only sound was that of the howling wind and faraway crashing waves. The closer they got, the faster Aalik’s gait became, until it was all but a desperate race to the front door. Aalik ran up to his mother’s room and swiftly opened the door.

“Mom! I-” Aalik’s voice crumbled. Norna was sitting next to his mother, holding her wrist. Color had drained further from Aama’s face and her previously erratic breathing was now practically nonexistent. Terror and shock flooded Aalik, freezing him on the spot.

“She’s holding on. I will to make sure of it…” Norna said, her voice welling up. “But she will not wake.”

Aalik did not hear Inigo’s cry of shock nor the desperate questions he made to Norna when he arrived. Aalik ran to the bed and knelt beside his mother, holding her hand, desperately wishing for her to return his grasp, but she never did. The pit in his stomach and chest became bottomless and the world around him faded. Aalik heard nothing but his own muffled cries as he embraced Aama. He thought of nothing, nothing but to hold her forever, wishing that she could embrace him back.


	10. Chapter 9: Departure

**Chapter 9: Departure**

It was night time in Fitcherdorf, well past midnight. Dark clouds covered the sky and not a trickle of moonlight shone through them. The streets were deserted and the homes were just as silent. However, the two dimly lit windows of the inn held on, in sharp contrast to the rest of the obscured town. They clung to the light, as weak as it was.

Aalik stood near his bed. Growing bags showed under his eyes, the product of nightmares and sleepless nights. He was going through a set of items and a partially filled leather satchel, placed over the mattress, all poorly lit by a dying candle on the bedside table. It had been years since Aalik touched his leather satchel, ever since his fishing trips had come to a sudden end. The process of packing everything bore with it a heavy sense of nostalgia, which cut deep into the boy’s chest.

There was an old hook and line, a short fishing spear, a few feet of rope and a dusty, broken compass. A thin smile formed around his face as he remembered just how useless the navigational artifact was, even when it was actually functional, and how his father had always tried to reason, futilely, with his mother, who adamantly refused to let them sail without it. He let out a faint, constrained chuckle, as he placed the items inside the satchel and closed it.

He placed the bag over his shoulder, fastened his fishing boots and walked out of the room. Aalik’s steps were hasty, because though he knew Esben and Inigo would not sail without him, it was not enough to prevent the creeping thoughts from popping upfrom the back of his mind. Time was of the essence.

Aalik then stopped in front of Aama’s room. His tired, bloodshot eyes still welled up as he opened the door, but they could not hold him back any longer. His mother was still in there, as much as the whispers in the back of his mind told him otherwise. Norna sat by Aama’s side, spreading a strongly scented powder on the unconscious woman’s face. It helped keep Aama’s weakened breaths from growing any weaker. She gave Aalik a side-glance, before returning her attention to her patient’s care.

Aalik walked towards his mother and caressed her hand and face. A lump formed in his throat but he forced it back. The boy then planted a kiss on her forehead and gave her one last embrace.

“Not too late to change your mind,” Norna said absentmindedly, as she kept on spreading the aromatic potion. Aalik let go of Aama and looked at the elder woman, who did not face him.

“Fine then, go ahead. I won’t keep you here any longer,” Norna responded dejectedly as she waved her hand. “Go on now.”

“There’s nothing I can do here,” Aalik said, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I have to go.”

“Of course you do,” Norna sighed.

“Is it ready?” Aalik asked briskly.

Norna reluctantly nodded and pursed her lips, as she rummaged through her bag until she found what she was looking for. “Here, take it,” Norna said, before extending a rune-covered bottle containing the map towards Aalik. She did not raise her eyes to meet Aalik’s own but he did not seem to care for it, nor for the intricate rune-like patterns etched across the glass. Aalik’s hand flinched in reflex when he tried to reach for the bottle. After a moment of hesitation, Aalik took the bottled map from Norna’s hand and put it inside his satchel. It rang against the other potion-filled bottles inside of it.

“That seal should be enough for you to hold onto it without harming yourself any further. I cannot sever the link, but at the very least, the connection between you and the map will keep you all from getting lost,” Norna said quietly as she began to mix two different potions. “Well what are you waiting for? There’s no time to waste.”

Aalik nodded while unconsciously grasping the leather bag. He looked at his mother and forcefully closed his eyes, before turning and walking towards the door. Norna, practically indifferent to Aalik’s departure, continued to shake the new concoctionm until its color changed into a bright, purple glow.

“Norna,” Aalik said with a trembling voice. Norna turned to face him, her indifferent expression betrayed by a hint of empathy.

“Thank you…and…I’m sorry,” Aalik said ashamedly. However, despite his quivering lips and baggy eyes, his resolve managed to shine through.

Norna’s face softened upon hearing Aalik’s words, her own eyes holding back tears of her own. “Go,” said Norna, her tone no longer harsh but enforcing, even if it still possessed a hint of reluctance.

Aalik nodded and gave his mother one last glance, as he stood outside the room. The deep, growing pit in his chest was still there, but his conviction grew beyond it. He turned around and left home.

Aalik walked cautiously through the empty streets towards the port. Despite the lack of illumination, he still made out the two shapes working on the boardwalk and the boat stationed by their side. One of said shapes recognized him from afar and waved. He picked up the pace, but there was no eagerness in his steps.

As Aalik approached, the image of both Inigo and Esben became clear, as did the Esben’s grumbles and mutters while they prepared the sailboat for travel. Esben’s movements were stiff and unusually well balanced a telltale sign that he was completely sober.

“It’s about time,” Esben said grumpily as he entered the sailboat, and began to release the rope around the port pole. “We need to get moving, this fog won’t last forever and I don’t expect the naval patrol to be as incompetent as the town guard.”

“Are you ready?” Inigo asked. There was a saber resting in his sword belt, identical to Esben’s own. 

Guilt grew on Aalik’s face as he saw this, despite Inigo’s reassuring smile. “Yes,” Aalik responded haphazardly and jumped into the boat.

Finally, Esben untied the remaining rope and with Inigo and Aalik’s help, pushed the sailboat off the port. They sailed on into the dark waters, and though distant, the deep rumbling of thunder added to their already heightened sense of haste, for navigating through darkness and mist was already tempting fate.

Hours passed as Inigo and Esben handled the ship and its course, while Aalik stood in the front of the boat, giving directions between intervals of thought. In spite of the thick fog and tilting waves, never once did Aalik even think to glance at the map of their destination; he merely clung to his satchel and felt the path calling to him from afar. The connection remained, focusing his attention, but it did not hold an iron grip over his thoughts as it had before.

Eventually the harsh waves receded and they reached calmer waters. Aalik told Esben and Inigo to sail straight westward, side-by-side with the faraway cliffs. Despite the clear-cut path before them, Aalik remained standing and staring blankly into the horizon.

“You should rest, Aalik,” Inigo said as he helped move the sail. “I’m sure you don’t need to stand up the whole way through.”

Aalik did not appear to hear Inigo’s recommendations, nor his steps over the boat as he walked up to him. Neither did he notice Esben’s annoyed mutters, when Inigo asked him to handle the boat on his own.

“Are you alright, Aalik?” Inigo asked, but Aalik paid him no mind, the ocean was his focus and nothing else.

“…I’m fine,” Aalik responded offhandedly after a while.

Inigo sighed and crossed his arms. “How long will we be sailing west?” Inigo asked as he too stared at the foggy horizon.

“A couple of hours,” Aalik said absentmindedly.

“You should lay down and rest then,” Inigo said. “I’ll wake you when the time comes, you don’t have to worry.”

Aalik ignored Inigo’s recommendatiod and further clutched his satchel and the bottle within.

“Everything alright?” Inigo asked calmly. Aalik sat down on the nearest boat seat and, slowly as a thawing glacier, released his grip from the leather bag.

“Am I doing the right thing?” Aalik asked hoarsely while still staring at the ocean. “Should I have stayed?”

Inigo could not respond, for nothing quite came to his mind as fast as he would have wished for at that very moment. However, before he could say anything, Aalik had broken in with his own troubled thoughts.

“What if, I’m not there when…then it would all be my fault,” Aalik stammered. His voice welled up and tears began to form in the corners of his eyes. “I…I never got to say goodbye.”

Once again, Inigo went quiet, this time for far longer than even he expected. There was a wistful, pained look in his eyes as he stared blankly into the dark waters, as if a memory lay there, painted over the endless ocean canvas.

The silence proved enough for Aalik to face Inigo, who now looked enraptured by whatever it was that coursed through his mind. It took a moment for Inigo to notice Aalik’s glassy eyed stare.

“Don’t blame yourself, Aalik. If there’s anyone here to lay blame on here, then that’s me,” Inigo murmured with much shame in his voice, unable to look Aalik straight in the eye.

“What?” Aalik said, dumbfounded by Inigo’s words, “no you don’t! What are you talking about?”

“I promised you both that I’d put my life on the line, just to keep you safe,” Inigo said, frowning as he rubbed his face with frustration, “and if it weren’t for me, then those damn soldiers wouldn’t have come to pillage the town to begin with.”

“Huh?” Aalik said flatly, almost annoyed at Inigo’s vague self-accusation.

“Dragging down a military ship with you isn’t something royal dogs like those can just skim over,” Inigo sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I should have thought about it out sooner.”

The words of the tax collectors, and more specifically, the loathsome commander, Flemming, resurfaced in Aalik’s memory, fitting together like the pieces of a newly discovered puzzle. Aalik grimaced, but he shook his head. “So? Why does that even matter? Stop trying to help me! How could you have known to begin wi-” Aalik cried out, but Esben would not have it anymore.

“Would you two quit your _yapping_!” Esben shouted. “If I were still commander I would have had you two on barnacle wiping duties till you grew your own fair share, then at least you would be cleaning muck, rather than wallowing in it all day!”

“Esben there’s no need for,” Inigo said, raising his hands in a calming gesture, but just like before, Esben broke in.

“Shut your trap! I’ve had enough of hearing you mope around!” Esben shouted and turned to face Aalik. “You can’t change what’s been done, just like you can’t change the course of the tide, you can only fight it. And here I thought you two were men of the sea!”

Both Aalik and Inigo went dead quiet. Their faces twisted with shame and they found themselves unable to counter much of anything Esben had said to them.

“Aalik…there’s a lifetime for crying, I know that much, but when its time to act, you have to put it on hold and yourself together, lest you end up wandering off into the storm!” Esben shouted, albeit without as much intensity as before.

Aalik found no solace as he clutched the leather satchel tighter in his hands. Esben’s words were tougher to swallow for Aalik than any concoction Norna had ever brewed before. Inigo remained silent, and fidgeted with his fingers.

“He’s right,” Inigo muttered while looking down at the sailboat floor. He then raised his head and gave Esben a weak yet resolute smile. “You’re right, Esben!”

“Darn right I am, now would you mind helping me out with this? My wrists are starting to ache,” Esben grumbled. “You should do what swashbuckler here says, Aalik, a few hours of shut eye won’t do you no harm.”

Aalik did not respond, for he still focused on the ocean path. Before Esben could have resumed his annoyed shouting however, Inigo raised a pleading hand at him, to which Esben begrudgingly agreed to.

“Aalik,” Inigo said calmly. Aalik was quiet, but he went on regardless, “I promise you, we will get there in time. Your mother is fighting at this very moment and so are you and I won’t let either of your efforts go to waste.”

Aalik shifted on the boat seat and faced Inigo. There was a look of desperate imploration in his face, leftover droplets of tears coursed down his cheeks.

“You need not worry, Aalik. If there is one thing I’m good at, besides sword fighting, it’s never giving up!” Inigo said proudly. Aalik smiled thinly and nodded.

“Now, get some rest. We can’t have you falling over and eating dirt every step you take, once we reach the main land,” Inigo said with a playful tone. Though Aalik’s chuckles were hushed, they were a much welcome change for Inigo’s ears.

“Thank you,” Aalik murmured quietly. The full brunt of his exhaustion showed more clearly, than it already had before, and so he let out a huge yawn. Aalik then huddled up over the boat seat, still clinging to the satchel, and closed his eyes.

Inigo sighed and returned to help Esben with the handling of the ship. There was a moment of soothing silence in the sailboat, were nothing could be heard, but the light splashing of waves and the flapping of the sail. 

“….So…Dread Pirate, huh?” Esben asked with feigned disinterest. “You don’t look so impressive up close if you ask me.”

“Well, what were you expecting?” Inigo responded with curiosity.

“Every man back in the army had his own version. Kind of hard to remember all of their inebriated, campfire tales,” Esben said. Memories flashed in the sailor’s eyes and while he did not snicker, he still wore a light, nostalgic grin.

“Humor me then commander. I’ll be sure to tell you the credence of each and every one,” Inigo said with exaggerated pompousness, more so when it came to mentioning Esben’s former military title. Esben laughed, if a bit dryly.

“There was this real jittery mercenary that picked up naval duty back in the day. Poor fellow kept rambling on about a single ship decimating a whole fleet in…half an hour, if memory serves me right,” Esben said, scratching his head in order to recount the finer details.

“Half an hour? Used to be ninety-eight minutes, it could be five nowadays for all I know,” Inigo said with amusement and a hint of pride, while he also scratched his chin. “Can’t say I remember exactly, the whole thing was a blur, even back then.”

“A bit of an unreliable narrator you turned out to be,” Esben muttered.

“Wouldn’t be if I had a bottle of Pinot with me right about now,” Inigo shot back. Both men laughed at their self-imposed soberness.

“So, how did you sink so many ships anyway?” Esben asked, genuinely curious. “Well you see-”

Inigo’s stories and Esben’s varying remarks of appreciation and incredulity became pleasant background noise for Aalik, as his mind drifted further and further away into the thin separation between consciousness and dreams.The frozen peak that loomed over did not become a molehill, and neither did the bottomless pit a shallow depression, but they were no longer insurmountable. For the first time in days, Aalik fell asleep peacefully, rocked by the soothing waves below.

* * *

Having finished his narration, the father began to re-arrange the sheets of paper. As he was checking the numbers beneath each page, his son’s sobs caught his attention.

“Are you alright?” the father asked concernedly as he piled the rest of the papers over the bedside table, next to his empty coffee mug.

“Yeah. I’m okay,” the son said, wiping off his tears with one of his sweater sleeves.

“I can stop reading this whenever you want me to, I’m not gonna be mad,” the father said calmly, before giving a tissue from one of his pockets to his son.

The boy blew his nose. “No, it’s alright, I just cried a little, that’s all,” the son said, trying his best not to hiccup as he spoke. The father seemed incredulous of this statement but the earnest, if red-eyed; look in his son’s face eased any doubts he might have had.

“So…what about the map?” the boy asked, still curious about that tiny little tidbit. It had been weeks since he had asked his father for it, and at this point even a rough sketch would have done it for him.

“Oh, I Almost forgot about that!” the father said with surprise. The man then flipped through the pages until he found a slightly thicker one with the telltale signs of ink spread over it and handed it over to his son. “Here! Your mom made it yesterday.”

“Wow, yeah, this is mom’s alright,” the boy responded in awe. He still wondered just how exactly his mother could pull such things out of her head, and place them over the paper. Not coloring outside the line was already mind boggling enough as it is.

“C’mon now, my drawing skills ain’t that awful,” the father said amusedly.

“Dad, remember when you tried to help me with my eel presentation at school…and then everyone thought they were hairless gophers?” the boy deadpanned, earning a look of surprise from his father.

“I’d rather not,” the father said, laughing nervously as his son snickered. The father, still grinning, stood up and picked up the rest of the pages. “Alright that’s enough pestering your old man for one day.”

“Wait! It’s still early,” the boy whined but his father ignored his pleas and went to the door.

“It will be when you wake up for school,” the father replied, before turning off the light. Though his tone was playful his son knew he had no way around it, after all, if there was one thing he dreaded more than bitter coffee, it was a scolding session from his wife. Directed at him of course.

“Oh come on, dad! You could at least tell me what the next one is gonna be about,” the boy whined once more.

“Alright, alright,” the father grumbled and quickly skimmed over the pages, using the light from the hallway to help him read. “Let’s see…oh yeah, they get struck by cannonballs.”

“What?” the boy exclaimed with a crack in his voice.

“Goodnight!” the father said in a singsong manner, before closing the door.


	11. Chapter 10: Ambush

** Chapter 10: Ambush **

The rays of the morning sun shone through the remaining clouds and mist, illuminating the lone sailboat navigating near the cliffside. Despite the growing heat in his face, Aalik remained fast asleep, rocked by the soothing motion of the waves below. His rest so far had been dreamless, and for that, he was grateful.

**_“W…a….k..e..!”_ **

Suddenly, a sense of urgency began to well up inside his chest, and the stubbornness that comes when trying to hold onto sleep faded instantly. His eyes shot wide open as he jumped.

“Whoa there! Quite the power nap you had there, eh Aalik?” Inigo remarked more surprised than amused at Aalik’s brusque awakening.

Aalik nodded absentmindedly and focused on his surroundings. The cliffs had lowered enough to see the sparse growth of trees above them and the mist had all but dissipated. More importantly however, the path set in his mind had finally changed.

“We’re close! We just have to climb up that cliff and go into the forest,” Aalik said, pointing at the uppermost part of the cliff and its hints of vegetation.

“Easy thing for you to say,” Esben muttered as he stared at the rock formations. “Calm waters or not, you haven’t been handling this boat for hours.”

“I’m sure a few stretches will freshen you up just fine,“ said Inigo, as he performed some warming exercises of his own.

“Then I hope you two do your fair share, dragging me all the way up there ain’t gonna be pretty,” Esben scoffed at Inigo.

The banter between the two veterans sounded muffled to Aalik’s ears, for a prickling feeling ran through his spine. His sight remained fixated on one of the cliffs near the coast and the shifting waves crashing around it. It was then, that the previously hidden form of a sloop made itself known, and so did too the sparks of its cannons.

**_“L….o….o…k!...._ ** **_look…LOOK OUT!”_ **

Aalik jumped. Cannon fire roared and the remains of Esben’s boat flew as it struck. The noise rang deep within the Aalik’s ears even underwater. Time slowed and became a blur as Aalik swimmed towards the rocky shoreline, the desperate whispers coming from the bottled map growing with every flapping of his arms.

Aalik could barely take in a breath as he ge tried to grab ahold of the wet rock, before another barrage of cannonballs struck nearby, sending further pieces of stone flaying and clattering across the coastline. Unfortunately, the stone proved far too slippery and Aalik slipped, but just before his feet also gave away, another hand swiftly caught his own.

“Let’s go Aalik!” Inigo shouted as he pulled Aalik up to the flat surface of the rock, his voice offset by the continuous firing from the ship.

“Better make the most out of those stretches!” Esben yelled as he yanked both Inigo and Aalik into the cover of one of the rocks. Another cannonball struck and shook the coast.

“What are we going to do? We have to get there as soon as possible!” Aalik cried, before ducking for cover.

“Now would be a good time for you to re-enact one of your escape plans!” Esben shouted at Inigo. Inigo hummed in thought.

“We could wait for them to run out!” Inigo happily stated, only to be interrupted by another shot of cannon fire.

“Excellent idea Dread Pirate! Let’s have a picnic while we’re at it!” Esben screamed mockingly, his voice deafened by the incessant barrage.

“What do you expect me to do? I can’t just parry cannon fire!” Inigo shouted as he covered his head from the flying pieces of rock and debris. “The stories could get farfetched, but never that far!”

“We have to move, now!” Aalik shouted, ignorant of the argument between the two and ran towards the next and closest source of cover. He did not hear neither their shouts, nor their frantic steps as they ran behind him.

**_“LOOK OUT!”_ **

With the ship nearing the coast, the roar and impact of its cannon fire shook Aalik to the bone. Aalik staggered as Esben and Inigo pushed him forward mid-jump. The three of them fell beneath a rock cover, having barely dodged the devastating blast.

“Are you insane? You could have gotten yourself kill-” Esben shouted but as the man stood up his anger became cries of pain. “AGH my back! I should’ve stretched…”

Another impact in close proximity nearly caused Esben to fall face first into the rocky surface, but Aalik and Inigo managed to catch him just in time.

“I have to agree Aalik, you must not be reckless!” Inigo remarked loudly.

Aalik lowered his head and grimaced, less so at Inigo’s scolding words but more at the brashness of his own actions. During that moment, it had seemed like an almost natural thought, to move forward despite the danger ahead. Then, Aalik realized the enthralling feeling surging from the bottle within his satchel and the almost imperceptible influence it had laid upon his will.

“I’m sorry,” Aalik murmured, shaking off the thought.

“Save the apologies for later! Any more bright ideas Inigo?” Esben grumbled as he caressed his hip and grabbed ahold of the nearby stones to support his balance. Another blast struck.

“The first one still stands!” Inigo said, and, was once again, followed by the pelting of iron on the rocky shore.

“Are you kidding me? What kind of idiot wouldn’t stock up more than a couple dozen cannonballs?” Esben shot back, screaming in both pain and anger.

Suddenly the cannons ceased fire. Esben’s incoming wave of insults died in his mouth, while Inigo’s eyes widened along as much as his grin, even a tiny flash of surprise passed through Aalik’s eyes as well.

“WHAT DO YOU, _ahem_ , YE MEAN WE RAN OUT SCALLYWAG?” a deeply infuriated voice screamed from the nearby vessel.

“There’s no cannonballs left bos-I mean-captain, i’m pretty sure that’s what ran out means…yarr,” a dull voice responded apathetically.

“SHIVER ME TIMBERS WHAT KIND OF INSOLENT FIRST MATE ARE YE!” screamed the raging captain.

While the two voices from the sloop continued their one-sided argument, Aalik, Inigo and Esben stared at each other. Aalik’s mouth was wide open in disbelief, Esben’s eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head and Inigo’s smile was as wide as it could be.

“Yep, that’s our cue, can you walk Esben?” Inigo whispered hurriedly.

“Crawl is more like it,” Esben muttered as he let go of the rock and tested his balance. With some help from Aalik, Esben managed to stand on his own, albeit with some difficulty. Esben thanked Aalik, who replied with a humble nod.

“Not to worry Esben, we just have sneak around to the edge of the shore as they bicker. Might take a while, but there will be no climbing involved,” Inigo murmured assuredly.

“I think climbing with a sore back is the least of our worries here,” Esben responded.

“We can’t keep arguing, we gotta move,” Aalik said briskly as he shot sideway glances at uppermost part of the cliffs.

“I agree,” Esben grumbled as he massaged his lower back.

“Alright, on the count to three we start moving. Follow my lead and watch your step,” Inigo said, “one…two…”

The self-denominated Pirate King’s ship was at a standstill. None of its crewmembers dared to glance towards their captain’s direction, less so in fear of the plank, but rather, the captain’s grating verbal lashings.With a growing lack of membership, the captain could not afford himself such play-acting frivolities, much to his crew’s dismay.

All but one of the crewmembers showed this fear, namely the first mate. Said man remained unfazed by the captain’s ongoing fit, giving monotone answer after monotone answer. This of course, riled up the gaudily, overdressed captain to no end.

“Watch that impudent tongue of yers, or I’ll have ye walking the plank, ye insolent landlubber!” the captain shouted an empty threat.

“Captain,” the first mate said.

“There ye go again interrupting yer captain! Have ye the manners of a cabin boy?” the captain yelled and stomped the creaking deck.

“Captain,” the first mate repeated.

“Blimey! How can I, the one and only Pirate King, be cursed with a crew of yapping rapscallions?” the captain harrumphed and cried to the heavens.

“Captain,” the first mate insisted.

“Tis be the envy of Davy Jones I tell you! Yaar my greatness be my downfall, the jealousy of the specter curse me so!” the captain proclaimed theatrically.

“They escaped,” the first mate stated, flatly.

“Test me ye may foul powers that be, but ye never-” the captain abruptly ended his monologue and stared at his first mate with disbelief. He dropped the accent, if only shortly. “What?”

“I can’t see em anymore captain,” the first made stated. “They must have escape-”

“Blimey! There ye go distracting me again,” the captain broke in. “If it weren’t for yer insolent tongue I would have never lost sight of those three.”

“They couldn’t have gone far captain, all we need to do is just calm down and-” the first mate was about to suggest, but was cut short once again.

“Quit yer yapping scallywag, I need to calm down and concentrate!” the captain fumed, accent resumed.

Suddenly an extremely loud snapping sound snapped the captain’s mouth shut. The man’s eyes bulged towards the source of the noise, as he hastily approached the rail of the vessel, followed by the rest of his equally curious crewmates.

“MY BACK!”

Esben lay on the ground clutching his hip. He had tried to fix up his back as the three of them crawled away from the enemy ship, to say that his mid crawling stretches did not yield the desired results, would have been quite an understatement.

“Stretching…did…no…good,” Esben groaned with every word.

Aalik rummaged through his satchel and pulled out one of the many potions Norna left for him to take on the voyage. Esben pushed back the bottle, earning a disapproving glare from Aalik.

“There’s no time, it would take hours for that to kick in,” Esben rebuked, while laying on the ground. “Y’all need to move on without me.”

“Quit your yapping Esben!” Inigo mimicked Esben’s tone of voice before going back to his own. “I’ve got an idea!”

Both Aalik and Esben stared, as Inigo rose from the ground with a confident, almost daring air

about him, as if he had not a care in the world. Aalik was aghast at Inigo’s foolhardiness, whereas Esben remained wholly indifferent.

“Parl-“ Inigo exclaimed, now fully visible to the sloop nearing the coast, but his proclamation was halted by the gaudily dressed man he supposed was the leader of the crew.

“THERE YE BE FILTHY LANDLUBBERS! ARCHERS!” the captain shouted at the top of his lungs.

The formerly idle crewmates fumbled about and drew their crossbows from their belts. They proceeded to steady themselves along the rails of the ship as best they could, which is to say not very well at all, earning glares of disapproval from their irate captain.

Seeing this as a prime opportunity to resume his infallible plan, Inigo spoke once more. “Parl-“

“FIRE!” the captain roared, followed by the unsteady, yet reasonably simultaneous, firing of crossbows.

Aalik gasped and Esben grimaced. They braced for the worst as the blood of their faces drained, but what occurred afterwards was far from what they had expected. Inigo swiftly unsheathed his saber and performed a peerless slash against the crossbow fire. Bolts fell against the razor cut of his steel and dropped broken the ground, leaving Inigo untouched and unscathed. The coast went silent on both sides, from the crew with their mouths hanging wide open, the formerly apathetic first mate included, to Aalik and Esben staring wide eyed at Inigo.

“…Least you can parry those,” Esben mumbled incredulously.

Inigo then reassumed his neutral stance, took a deep breath and attempted to repeat his original course of action. ”Parl-”

“WHAT KIND OF TRICKERY THIS BE? FIRE AGAIN YE SCALLYWAGS!” the captain commanded with a hint of fear in his voice.

The crossbowmen scrambled about, but they fired faster than they did before, likely due to their growing desperation. As history often repeats itself, so did Inigo’s superb performance at making the incoming barrage of crossbowbolts look like a calm summer breeze, but just as is with history, Aalik and Esben soon noticed the difference between Inigo’s first and second parry, for his face began to show sweat, and the sun was not to blame.

“I swear, this gets harder every year,” Inigo mutter quietly as he feigned composure.

Though Inigo’s act did not fool Aalik and Esben whatsoever, it was more than enough to raise chaos within the enemy ship.

“Did you see that? That was insane!” one of the crewmates trembled, nearly dropping his crossbow into the waters below.

“He was like fwooosh and…clang!” another amazed crewmate said as he poorly mimicked the swordsman’s feat with his own rusty short sword.

“No no no, you got that wrong. It was more of a swing and a swash,” a crewmate argued while making his own physical recounting of the events.

The discussion went on for a moment until the captain, beet red with rage, stomped the ship and roared at his understandably distracted underlings.

“SILENCE YE SALTY SWABS! DO NOT PRAISE YER ENEMY! I’LL HAVE ALL YER RUM SPILLED INTO THE BRINY DEEP-”” the captain cried out, before being promptly interrupted by his first mate’s firm grasp on his shoulder.The dead seriousness of his first mate’s voice prevented the captain from lashing out at him, and so, he listened carefully.

“Boss, the forest archers, we still have a chance,” the first mate whispered hastily.

Upon hearing this formerly forgotten fact, the captain then flashed an eye-to-eye grin and turned to face the swordsman by the coastline. Over at the rocky shore, Inigo cleared his throat and readied himself to deliver his improvised speech one more time, after all-

* * *

“Third time’s the charm, right?” the son asked.

“Indeed it is,” the father replied with raised eyebrows and a knowing smile.

“You’re gonna interrupt Inigo again aren’t you,” his son replied, flatly. His father chuckled and fixed his eyes on the pages once more.

“Why would I do that?” the man said while he looked for the exact part where he left off. “Now…”

* * *

“…As I was saying-”

“SCOUTS!” the captain shouted with glee.

The waves crashed against the coast, and the occasional seagull squawked. No response came whatsoever. Everyone but Aalik and Esben, who still cringed internally as they hid, stared at the captain.

“I…said…SCOUTS!” the captain screamed furiously.

The sound of rustling leaves and hasty steps from the cliffs above alerted the trio below. Several, similarly outfitted men as the ones from the ship appeared from the foliage, holding loaded crossbows in their hands.

“Now might be a good time to put that plan of yours into work,” Esben whispered rapidly, as he stared at the armed men above in the cliffside.

Aalik instinctively grabbed and huddled himself with the satchel, shooting a pleading look at Inigo.

Inigo looked partly towards each side of the ambush, beads of sweat growing in his face. He muttered something inaudible, but as soon as he caught sight of Aalik’s desperate eyes, whatever pessimistic thoughts were within the man crumbled away and in their place formed an unshakable confidence.

“PARLEY!” Inigo shouted with such force that not only did he seize everyone’s attention, but the captain’s confident grin also faded away in an instant.

“D-did he just say parsley?” the captain mumbled dumbfounded before going back to his pirate persona, trying to regain some of his lost bravado. “What be that racket? Speak up foul sword demon! I the great Pirate King, am not afraid of yer words of malice!”

“You are mistaken, fellow seafarer, I am no demon of the blade, though my reputation precedes me so,” Inigo replied calmly as he sheathed the saber. “I am the Dread Pirate Roberts, and I hereby solicit a parley!”

Surprised murmurs and expressions of shock spread throughout the crew, each and every one sharing bits and pieces of recounted events and tales of the living legend’s exploits. All did, except for the captain himself, alongside his first mate, whom both shared an incredulous passing glance as if to ask the other how to assess their current situation. Seeing that neither could do so the captain took a step and spoke up.

“Yarr why would ye Dread Pirate, be without a proper crew?” the captain asked loudly, despite the fact that the sloop was already anchored as close as it could be to the coast, and Inigo was only a few feet away.

“Surely you have heard the tale of the legendary florian castle rush, performed solely by two of my trustworthy allies, and yours truly,” Inigo stated with a wistful smile. After giving the captain and his crewmembers enough whispering and debating time, Inigo went back to his story.

“60 men, stone walls, treacherous lords and bleeding wounds, none were a match for the bonds between me and my allies,” Inigo said with a hint of bittersweet pride. “We were not many and the great sea was not there to turn the tide, but we persevered, for nothing could stand in our way, the pirate’s way!"

Inigo’s tale had enraptured the attention of the ambushers and even Esben was impressed, less so at the grandiosity of the story but of Inigo’s conviction. Above all else, Aalik’s growing despair flickered and died out, and a genuine smile showed in his face, along with growing trickles of tears. Inigo turned back to face Aalik and returned his smile, as well as his spirits.

“With my sword and spirit in check I suppose you no longer require further confirmation,” Inigo said as he spun back to face the captain and his crew. Hearing no response Inigo continued. “So, as I was saying, I trust you will comply with this request between us men of the sea, yes?”

“Uh, what now?” the captain asked flatly.

“A parley! Surely, my king would remember such a tradition, it is key ettiquete amongst us pirates to accord an honorable truce during times of need!” Inigo exclaimed with a slightly exaggerated bow. Esben stifled a snort.

“Yarr, me ears be filled with seawater from me countless brawls matey! I be hearing parsley from here,” the captain attempted to say with pride, but he fooled no one thanks to his visible signs of relief, which no doubt owed itself to Inigo’s explanation of the term.

“You agree to the parley then?” Inigo asked.

“Yarr, so be it!” the captain replied mirthfully, earning a disbelieving frown from his first mate, which he silently responded to with a poorly disguised wink. The first mate’s frown deepened.

“Sure hope this works, Inigo,” Esben seethed through closed teeth. Inigo replied silently with a reassuring grin.

“SEIZE…our guests!” the captain exclaimed, adding an unnecessary amount of flair to the last part of his sentence.

“See? What did I tell you Esben? We have nothing to worry about,” Inigo whispered to the laying man.

The sorry state of the dungeon they were thrown into said otherwise.


	12. Chapter 11: The King's Stronghold

**Chapter 11: The King's Stronghold**

The fortress dungeon was dark and gloomy, but not quite as much as Esben’s attitude. He grumbled and shifted on the cold stone floor, trying his best not to touch what he hoped to be puddles of spilled beer.

Aalik sat in the corner of the dungeon, arms over his knees, casting sideway glances every now and then at his satchel resting over the prison guard’s table along with the rest of their equipment.

Inigo however, remained steadfast. He paced around the cell, brows furrowed in thought as he tried to devise a method of escape. Esben was not amused.

“What? You got any more bright ideas?” Esben spat at Inigo.

“As many as I can fit up my sleeve!” Inigo replied proudly, while he walked around and caressed his chin in deep thought. “We’ll get out of here soon enough.”

Esben shook his head and shifted his eyes away from Inigo, all the while cursing under his breath.

Aalik remained quiet, focused on the guard’s table. The large man was fast asleep, not that he seemed to care much about the arrival of the new prisoners to begin with.

“Yarr! Evening Dread Pirate!”

Inigo’s brainstorming came to a halt, as he heard the captain’s words and approaching steps, with another pair lagging close behind. The guard on the other hand, still snored loudly. The captain’s eye twitched at the sight, while the first mate stood indifferent to the situation as a whole.

“EDVARD!” the captain screamed.

“Huh…wuh…whuzzat?” the guard mumbled slowly, as he jolted from his seat. A sizeable trail of saliva hung from his mouth, his face still in a daze. The captain sighed deeply.

“Edvard…ye be on guard duty, are ye not?” the captain calmly asked, if with a slight hint of frustration.

“Ye? Oh, right! How y-ye be cap’n o mine!” the bumbling guard slowly but happily replied, though his captain did not care about his friendly gesture in the slightest.

“Have ye inspected our guests cargo Edvard?“ asked the captain with a forced smile.

The guard stared blankly at the items and then back at his captain. He repeated the motion several times. Once he had formulated a proper response, he turned back to face his captain, but was swiftly interrupted by the man’s raised hand.

“JUST! Get on with it…”said the captain as he massaged his temple.

“Right on it, cap’n o mine!” the guard said cheerfully and began to inspect the items, taking a considerable amount of time with the opening of the leather satchel.

The captain rolled his eyes and returned his attention to the cell and the “guests” within it. “Yarr! I hope ye find me humble abode comfortable, had I known I be having such acclaimed visitors then I would have put me whole crew on cleaning duty,” the captain said with feigned cordiality.

“I’ve slept over worse,” Esben muttered as he rolled around to face the grimy wall, preferring the somberly sight to the captain’s ridiculous outfit.

The captain snorted and turned to face Inigo. “Now Dread Pirate explain this to me-”

A loud crash caught both the captain and Inigo’s attention. Both looked over to the guard’s table and the sprawling mess of broken glass beneath it, the large man covered his mouth in shock.

“Blimey Edvard, keep yer buttery hands to yerself!” the captain cried out. “What are ye waiting for? Go fetch something to clean up this mess, now!”

“Oh, such a pretty bottle,” the large man whined regretfully and walked to the end of the passageway, where he picked up a worn down broomstick.

Fear flashed in Aalik’s eyes as he stared at the laying shards of glass and their now unrecognizable runes. A shiver had run through his spine just as the bottle crashed on the floor, but despite the growing feeling of dread, Aalik fought it back and, as difficult as it was, shied his eyes away.

The captain disdainfully ignored Aalik’s apprehension. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath before addressing Inigo once more. “So Dread Pirate, care to explain-”

Another bottle crashed. The captain flinched and grimaced, before he spun to face the guard.

“Edvard I swear to god, how hard can-” the captain seethed, his accent dropped entirely, but as soon as he opened his eyes, his anger swiftly transformed into horror, nearly matching the dumbfoundedness of the guard. “What the hell is that!”

A bright, glowing liquid sprawled from the newly shattered bottle. The guard took his proper distance from the substance, but his nose betrayed him and the man reared his head in close enough to the liquid to sniff its enthralling aroma.

“Mmm!” the guard murmured happily. “Peppermint!”

“Don’t. Touch. That!” the captain ordered, to which the guard sadly complied and went back to his cleaning duties. The captain quickly turned and shot an accusatory glare at Inigo, his accent returned as well, if haphazardly. “What sorcery this be!”

“Aromatic beverages,” Inigo answered flatly. “No more, no less. No sorcery involved. None whatsoever.”

“Enough games! What brings ye here Dread Pirate?” the captain demanded furiously. “Tell me now, and remember, dead men tell no lies.”

Esben grumbled loudly, no doubt complaining, or perhaps mocking, the captain’s way of speaking, but neither Inigo nor the captain paid him any mind.

“Oh, you know, some sightseeing, a little hiking to go along with it,“ Inigo calmly answered.

“I do not doubt yer thirst for adventure,” the captain replied coldly. “Surely ye must have heard of the legends surrounding these parts?”

“No I have not, do tell! I’m a sucker for all the intricate details,” Inigo said, feigning awe. Esben groaned even louder and the captain chuckled.

“Long ago-”

“We’ve been tasked to guard the entrance of the forest and look for the path leading up to the treasure,” the formerly silent first mate broke in at almost breakneck speeds. The captain grew furious and turned back to face the nearly immobile, apathetic man.

“Ye salty swab, have ye no shame!” the captain barked at his first mate.

Outside of closing his eyes against the odd sputtering of saliva of his captain’s words, the first mate did not even flinch.

Inigo cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the infuriated captain who still kept shooting backwards glares at the dispassionate first mate. “Guarding the entrance you say? Now I do not mean to pry, but why would a free spirit of the seas such as yourself be guarding anything for anyone?” Inigo questioned, his tone verging on an accusatory one.

The captain held back a poorly hidden grimace, which then turned into a forced smile, as if the captain were trying to hold onto whatever smidgen of self-confidence remained inside him. “Yarr none at all, tis be nothing less than a masterful ploy!” the captain said hurriedly.

“I’m all ears,” Inigo said, welcoming the captain’s elaboration of said ploy. Esben groaned loudly and the first mate breathed from his nose in a sharp and erratic manner.

“Ye see the prince has bestowed upon us the duty of guarding the entrance of the mystic forest, but-”

“King you mean,” Inigo corrected.

The captain fumbled and, very poorly, tried to recover the flow of his explanation. “Y-yes of course the…l-landlubber king propositioned us a fine deal ye see-”

“If that’s what you’re gonna call it,” the first mate retorted, re-igniting his captain’s rage.

“Captain,” Inigo quickly asked, successfully interrupting the captain’s verbal retaliation before it started. “Please, do go on.”

“…As I was saying, this here feat of trickery be the brainchild of sleepless nights, tis without flaw!” the captain said with pride.

“Making it up as you go along count as planning?” the first mate muttered. The captain breathed in slowly and ignored his comment.

“For ye see the forest is treacherous, many are the dangers within it and many were me men who, willingly, lost their lives searching for the right path in that green, hellish maze,” the captain exclaimed. His first mate sniffed, causing the captain's eye to twitch.

“But their efforts will not be in vain! As soon as the land-dwelling king receives word of our progress and we guide him to the fated destination,” the captain proclaimed quietly before swiftly drawing his blade and raising his voice once more, “We’ll double cross the upstart right under his nose and swipe the treasure from his filthy, noble-born clutches!”

Inigo slowly nodded, as the captain regained most of his earlier pompadour and bravado. The captain shot Inigo a confident smirk.

“Ye see, I serve no one Dread Pirate, no one but me self,” the captain stated confidently, pointing at his own chest. Inigo bobbed his head in agreement before furrowing his brows in thought.

“So…how far have you gotten inside the forest?” Inigo asked. The captain’s smirk grew larger.

“Halfway actually, only took us about six months,” the captain answered proudly, before pulling out a ragged piece of parchment from his inside his vest, and showing it to Inigo. “And here’s the map to prove it.”

“Yeah just give us a year or two and we _might_ reach the end of the forest, give us a little luck and someone _might_ be left standing long enough to see the mountains…before dropping _dead_ ,” the first mate scoffed. The captain sighed, tightly shut his eyes and massaged his temple.

“Look, Steve, if you’re not going to add anything of worth to the conversation you might as well go drown your sorrows at the mess hall with the rest of the band,” the captain said flatly, dropping his pretense accent entirely and not even bothering to face his underling.

“As you wish captain I would not have it any other way!” the first mate complied with a mock salutation and promptly left the dungeon chambers, ignoring the large guard’s hand wave and subsequent frown.

The captain shook his head in frustration and disappointment, muttering complaints about deserters under his breath.

“You seem to have some issues controlling your crew, captain,” Inigo noted. “Comes with the job description,” the captain responded as he rubbed his eyes.

“Look, I understand your predicament,” Inigo said solemnly earning a flat yet somehow curious glance from the captain. “As such, as a fellow seafarer, I have a proposition of my own to offer you.”

“I be all ears Dread Pirate,” the captain laughed mockingly but grew silent, as to let Inigo speak.

“Honesty is a virtue, so I offer you this while I shed light to my intentions,” Inigo said staunchly. “Let us join forces for the search of the treasure, we shall take it, before the King even has a shot at finding its tracks.”

For a moment, it seemed as if the captain considered Inigo’s words, it was but a moment however. “You take me for a fool Dread Pirate, surely you must know just how much your reputation precedes you,” the captain glared at Inigo with a suspicious stare before re-assuming his dropped accent. “I be no taking such risks, in fact I do believe ye and yer makeshift crew should buy into the King’s trust even more, were I to hand ye over.”

Inigo smirked at the captain’s threat and shook his head. “To see the Pirate King go to such great lengths, all for the sake of some royal upstart,” Inigo shot back with a disappointed look.

“Ye be deaf, I serve no one but me self!” the captain yelled as he stomped the stone floor, his face contorted with rage. Inigo was unfazed.

“Then you shall hear this. If you truly are half the legend you claim to be, you will take heed of my challenge!” Inigo answered with twice as much strength in his voice, surprising the captain for a brief instant.

“Fine then Dread Pirate! What be yer challenge?” the captain asked daringly as he brandished his decorated, yet slightly nicked blade.

“A duel!” Inigo demanded.

“BE IT SO!” the captain accepted.

Another bottle fell and crashed by the guard’s table. “My bad!”

The mess hall cleared around the center, tables and chairs pushed aside. The entirety of the crew sat, eagerly waiting for the inevitable clash between their captain and the much talked about Dread Pirate. Such was the occasion that one of the crewmembers began to, whisperedly; place bets for the upcoming duel, taking extra care not to mention the exact odds aloud.

Both men stood on opposite sides of the makeshift dueling arena, each ready with their own respective weapons. Inigo’s belt held a much shoddier short-sword, lent to him by one of the crewmates at the captain’s order, as to “level the playing field” according to the captain.

“First to fall loses, those are my terms. If I win, you let us go. If you win you can go ahead and claim your _king’s_ bounty,” Inigo said mockingly, while performing wrist and stretching exercises. Coins jingled noisily from afar.

“So they shall be,” the captain glared intimidatingly, pointing his blade at Inigo who in returned place his hand on his sword’s hilt. Heated debates about the fairness of the bet began to pop up around the mess hall.

The first mate strolled to the middle of the mess hall, walking with an uncharacteristically high spring in his steps. Even more surprising however, was the eagerness in his face. “Now gentlemen, on the count of three, let the duel begin!” the first mate bellowed, earning the cheers of the crew. With that, the man ran back to the safety of the tables, shouting the countdown with the rest of the crew.

“ONE!”

The captain swung his blade dramatically and with excessive flair. Inigo was still.

“TWO!”

The captain finished his spin with a glare. Inigo was unimpressed.

“THREE!”

The captain assumed a haughty stance complemented by a wide sneer, welcoming Inigo’s approach at any moment.

“DUEL!”

Inigo took his first step and brandished the half-broken sword in one clean, swift motion. His expression was as blank as his stance was tranquil. The crowd fell silent.

The captain gulped and his palms became sweaty. He saw no mercy in his opponent’s eyes, only raw, unfiltered focus as if the world around them mattered not. Inigo took another another step.

The captain’s hands and knees began to tremble beyond his control, he could think of anything but to flee, and yet, his stubborn pride grounded him in place, much to his chagrin. Suddenly a re-assuring thought came to him, trying to salvage what remained of his composure.

_Remember! One parry will break his blade, and then it will all be over!_

He knew his own words to be a lie; for he could not parry what was coming. Inigo took another step, followed by a resolute fighting stance; one the captain could not even recognize, not that he had much knowledge in the matter of swordfighting to begin with.

The captain shivered beneath the imminent sense of doom that came with his opponent’s approach. He felt small, smaller than he ever did before. One final step, and with it the captain was within Inigo’s reach.Time froze for the captain and his entire, uneventful life flashed through his eyes. He swallowed any hint of regret that lay within, as he waited for the decisive blow to come, but there was none, only terror remained.

A bottle crashed nearby.

Death did not claim him, time still appeared to move in slow motion for the captain, but he did not see a gruesome wound cutting through his impractical garments. Instead, he saw the Dread Pirate wobbling through the air, trying to regain his balance, to little avail. The captain’s eyes immediately moved to the floor and there it lay a bright, glowing liquid.

“S…o…r…r…y…C…a..p…’…n!”

The captain, flabbergasted, turned and saw the mortified guard, scrambling on the floor amongst annoyed crewmembers. The large man attempted to pickup the broken pieces of another of the prisoner’s bottles, its slippery remains splattered over the floor. Suddenly, the Dread Pirate's conditions resonated clearly inside the captain's mind, giving a sparkle to his eyes.

_"First to fall loses"_

Inigo fell to the floor and with it, the captain’s smile returned.

Inigo struggled and cried out in anger, while a group of wounded crewmembers restrained him and carried him back to the cell. They threw him back into the dungeon and slammed the cell doors shut, right before Inigo leapt at them in a rage. More than a couple few flinched. 

“Let me out of here! Have you no honor? The duel had just begun!” Inigo roared, futilely shaking the cell bars.

Several crewmembers shot back equally furious glares at Inigo, especially those with the worst slashing wounds, from when they had to restrain him right after the technicality ocurred. Meanwhile, their captain, comparatively unscathed besides some clothing damage, laughed at Inigo’s fury.

“No honor? So soon have ye forgotten Dread Pirate, dead men tell no lies!” the captain smugly answered with a wink.

“Enough with the stupid accent! Let me out of here and face me like a man!” Inigo seethed.

The captain grinned and laughed. “First to fall loses,” the captain said in a mock imitation of Inigo’s voice. “Your terms and yours alone, Dread Pirate.”

Inigo’s anger subsided as the chortling captain walked away, along with the rest of the crewmembers. Feeling deeply humiliated, Inigo kicked the iron bars in frustration and began to pace around the dungeon once again, muttering scathing comments about a lack of chivalry in the current times.

“He played ya good,” a still laying Esben yawned. Inigo ignored him.

“We’ll get out of here as soon as possible Aalik, I promise you that,” Inigo proclaimed fervently as he turned to look at Aalik, who did not appear to listen.

Aalik was sitting, facing the wall, and from the looks of it, he was struggling against something unseen, as if trying to keep it from moving.

“Shush, stay still!” Aalik growled as he moved around wildly over the stone floor. “No, you shut up!”

“Aalik? Are you alright?” Inigo asked, tentatively walking towards Aalik.

“Hey, what’s wrong kid?” Esben stood up brusquely and made his way to Aalik, in spite of his pain.

Then, Aalik stopped and sighed victoriously. He turned back only to see both Inigo and Esben staring at him, unsure of what to make of the mysterious situation. Aalik smiled and showed them the wriggling map, trying to escape his grasp.The two men flinched and backed away in surprise, holding back screams, but Aalik merely struck the map with his open palm and it ceased its desperate escape attempts.

“I’ve got an idea!”


	13. Chapter 12: Escape

**Chapter 12: Escape**

Inigo and Esben stared at the wriggling piece of parchment Aalik held tightly in his grasp. Both showed varying degrees of disgust and disbelief.

“That’s _repulsive!_ ” Esben gagged, going back a couple of steps.

“As if that thing wasn’t disturbing enough already,” Inigo muttered, shaking his head in astonishment.

“That,” Aalik said, pointing at the squirming map, “is our way out.”

The cell went dead quiet, besides the parchments futile struggles.

“Beg your pardon?” Esben asked flatly. Inigo nodded in agreement to the question.

Aalik sighed angrily, but before he could explain his plan, the painful groans and jingling steps of the approaching prison guard stopped him. He would have to skip over to the demonstration it seemed.

“Shh! Just watch,” Aalik whispered to the other two, who became quiet, despite their honest doubts. He walked up to the cell bars and called for the guard’s attention.

“Mister! Please, mister you need to see this, I found something!” Aalik said with as much feigned demureness as one could deem possible, earning flat stares from Inigo and Esben.

“Huh?” the guard raised his head, wincing from his poorly bandaged wounds. “What happened?”

“Mister I found this map on the floor and I thought it looked really important,” Aalik replied as he waved the map around, catching the guard’s short-spanned attention.

“A map?” the guard asked with piqued curiosity and wide eyes. He made his way to the cell, his eyes glued to the piece of parchment. The, strangely mobile, piece of parchment.

 _Play. Along._ Aalik thought as he gave a ferocious side-glance at the map, which immediately complied and went frozen still.

The guard did not notice for he was far too enraptured by the mere sight of the mysterious parchment in front of him. His mouth lay wide open, as he unconsciously tried to reach for the map behind the bars, to no obvious avail.

“Uh…mister?” Aalik asked, his demure tone nearly betrayed by a hint of exasperation. “Wuzza? Wha?” the guard mumbled and shook his head, breaking out of his daze. He scratched the top of head, trying to recollect his thoughts, before he was, once again, taken in by the sight of the mysterious parchment.

Aalik groaned and cleared his throat. “Mister!” Aalik shouted.

“Oh,” the guard blurted out. “Uh…uh, h-hey nice map you got there…uh…think I could get a look at it? Puh-Please?”

“Sure mister, but only if you promise me that you will show it to the rest of your crew, especially

your captain!” Aalik said as he reached out the map between the cell bars.

The guard, fully mesmerized, nodded and tried to grab ahold of it but Aalik swiftly pulled it back. The guard whimpered dejectedly.

“ _Who_ you gonna show it to?” Aalik asked bluntly.

“T-the crest of the rew!” the guard stammered, grabbing ahold of the cell bars and shaking them desperately.

Aalik rolled his eyes before staring back at the map, giving it yet another incriminating look.

 _Tone. It. Down._ Aalik thought and the map shivered in response. Aalik huffed and quickly turned back to face the guard. “And? Who else!” Aalik barked while tapping his foot.

The guard jumped with shock. “Right, right…uh,” he mumbled as he went through his thoughts with great effort, until a flash of brilliance finally showed in his eyes. “Me Cap’n!”

Aalik smiled proudly and gave the map to the eager guard, who wasted no time unfolding it and admiring its every single, meticulous, age-worn detail.

“Ahem,” Aalik said bluntly.

“Thank you kindly young man!” the guard, his gaze still focused on the map, thanked Aalik and patted him in the head. “I’ll make sure everyone else gets a good look, these are some top-notch pretty pictures!

Inigo and Esben stared at the guard as he walked through the dungeon corridors, with their only means of direction. The guard stumbled more than a couple of times along the way, being far more interested in admiring the contents of the map, than checking his surroundings. They turned and faced Aalik, incredulity written all over their faces.

“I’m not following,” Esben scoffed. Inigo however took on a more comprehensive approach. “Look Aalik I know you’re in a lot of pressure right now, we can all act brashly from time to-”

But before Inigo could have continued his pep talk, the sound of jingling filled the cell, interrupting him and drawing both his and Esben’s attention. Aalik turned to face the two. A smirk grew across his face as he showed them the guard’s keys, which turned into a full-blown grin when Esben’s jaw dropped and Inigo’s face brimmed with pride.

“You sneaky little,” Esben whispered with squinty eyes.

“Impressive,” Inigo remarked but Esben shook his head in disapproval.

“That’s all fine and dandy, but we still have a bit of a problem,” Esben whispered harshly. “They’ve got guards in and out of the fortress. Even if swashbuckler here takes a couple out they’ll just end up swarming us, and I don’t think they’re feeling exactly charitable right now, certainly not to throw us back into the dungeon.”

“I agree with Esben, what’s the next course of action?” Inigo asked, showing far more confidence compared to Esben’s annoyed side-glance.

“We wait,” Aalik replied briskly.

“Wait?” Esben groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, “for what?”

Chaos ensued. What began as a light-hearted presentation given by the guard to the rest of his crewmates soon devolved into a brawl of epic proportions, chairs flew, alongside progenitor-related insults, as the entirety of the fortress became engulfed in a veritable free-for-all, with every man vying for the possession of the map. Even from the distance of the dungeons, such was the ruckus and the velocity of its spread, that it took little time for Inigo and Esben to notice the fruits of Aalik’s ploy.

“Oh,” Esben said flatly, as he scratched his beard. “That.”

Aalik wasted no time opening the door and leaving the cell along with Inigo and Esben, helping the latter with Inigo in walking up to the table, where their equipment lay. Esben snatched one of the few remaining potions and downed its contents, barely holding back a gag from sheer disgust.

“Better late than never,” Esben gagged. Inigo stared, horrified.

“I’m pretty sure there’s a recommended dose,” Inigo muttered, staring at the empty bottle with caution, as he put on his sword belt again and sheathed back his saber.

Esben grumbled and shot Inigo a glare in response, as he too sheathed his saber back into his sword belt, all the while smacking his lips, in a pitiful attempt to deal with the aftertaste.

“There,” Aalik said hurriedly, placing his satchel over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Aalik and Inigo walked towards Esben, but much to their surprise, he was standing up on his own just fine. More puzzling than that however, was the fact that Esben was performing stretches without the faintest hint of discomfort much to Inigo’s chagrin.

“Careful now, let’s not have a repeat from back at the shore,” Inigo said worriedly, Esben ignored him however and kept on stretching as much as possible.

Aalik and Inigo winced and braced themselves but no loud snap came, or at least not one loud enough to alert the feuding crew about their ongoing escape attempt. Aalik and Inigo sighed with relief.

“Hey not to give Norna any slack but…did her potions ever work so fast?” Esben asked as he cracked and caressed his neck.

“Can’t say they were for me,” Inigo said, shuddering at the memory of his recovery as he stared at the remaining bottles and the glowing liquid within them. “They’ve been glowing a lot more ever since we’ve reached the edge of the forest, now that you mention it.”

“I don’t dabble in witchcraft, but whatever the reason is, least you two won’t have to drag me around no more,” Esben chuckled heartily, Aalik and Inigo smiled in response.

“I don’t think she’d enjoy your definition of her livelihood,” Inigo responded with a smirk, Esben snorted at the comment.

“You can snitch all you want when we go back,” Esben replied before giving himself one final stretch. “Alright then, lead the way kid.”

Aalik nodded eagerly and gestured Inigo and Esben to follow him. Despite the overall noisiness of the corridor from the mess hall battle, the trio took no chances. Their steps were steady and calculated, not a single slip or false movement occurred, as they sneaked their way to the end of the passage.

Above them, and a sizeable amount of stairs, was freedom. Below them, a bloodthirsty gang that turned against itself in a matter of minutes. The trio kept on moving.

Each step became an eternity, as the sound of the brawl grew louder and louder, but they kept their pace regardless. After all, one mistake was all it would take, and they would no longer have to worry about handling just a mere couple of, shoddily equipped, guards at the entrance. After a few strenuous minutes of tiptoeing, the trio covered nearly half of the way towards the entrance of the fortress. It would not be long before they could finally escape!

Aalik cleaned the sweat from his brow and steadied his breath, trying to slow down his fastening heartbeat. _C’mon just a little more…almost there!_

“HEY!”

Aalik’s blood froze.

The trio turned back and saw the image of a beaten down thug laying on the ground at the very end of the stairs, submitted by another who held him with a mighty headlock. The man, in spite of his injuries and painful position, raised a clawing hand at them, as if desperately trying to reach out for something beyond his grasp.

“THAT KID’S GOT THE MAP!”

The fighting stopped. One by one, crewmembers began to pile at the end of the stairs, all of their eyes focused on a single objective above them. It was then that Aalik felt a faint wriggling on his shirt, as if something were trying to hold on to it, his eyes widened.

“RUN!” Aalik shouted and Inigo and Esben complied wholeheartedly. “Was this part of your plan?” Esben screamed.

Aalik did not respond, for he was far too busy trying to shake off what stubbornly clung to his back.

_“LET GO OF ME!”_

**_“Run!”_ **

_“WHAT DO YOU THINK I’M DOING? YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO FIND ME IN THE FOREST THAT WAS THE PLAN!”_

**_“Tear me apart they would have, judge me not!”_ **

_“_ _YOU CAN TURN INVISIBLE!”_

**_“That I did and still am! Run!”_ **

Aalik harrumphed while he stomped his way through the stairs, pushing himself as much as he could while the roars of the savage ruffians closed in at every second. Aalik focused and pushed away his growing fears; all that mattered was the path beyond him.

“Aalik, duck!” Inigo shouted.

Hearing this, Aalik ducked, dodging the incoming strike of a hidden guard’s shortsword by a hair’s breadth, which managed to slash only but a few hairs off his head. Before Aalik took another step, the guard quickly fell to a single swipe from Inigo’s saber, dropping ingloriously into the floor, before Esben casually picked up the body.

“Bah, showoff!” Esben grumbled as he threw the dead guard towards the approaching stampede, successfully knocking back the rampaging lunatics, buying the trio precious time.

However, Esben wasn’t satisfied, he knew there had to be a way to properly deal with the problem at hand. Ignoring Aalik and Inigo’s pleads; Esben’s mind ran at top speeds, until a large crate full of barrels by the floor’s corridor caught his eye. Without a second thought, Esben ran to the crate and began to push it towards the stairs. The crazed thugs were getting closer, stamping one another like animals, but Esben feared them not. He smiled and grabbed the edge of the crate.

Esben grunted with effort, his face reddened and the veins in his forehead popped. The wood cracked as Esben began to lift it from the ground, but it would budge no further. The rabid screams grew louder.Taking in a sharp breath; Esben closed his eyes and let out a resounding roar. Using every bit of strength he could muster, Esben finally lifted the crate off the ground, and then, his back snapped.

“ESBEN!” Aalik and Inigo screamed as they ran back to help their companion, but to their surprise, it was not Esben’s groans of pain that followed the loud snap, it was his laughter.

“HA! DRINKS ON ME!” Esben laughed, lifting the crate overhead and throwing at the band of crazed thugs. The fortress practically shook with sound.

Broken pieces of wood, cheap smelling rum and a mixture of groaning and unconscious ruffians sprawled over the staircase. Esben laughed proudly at the scene, placing his fists at his hips.

“Serves you right, you buncha hooligans!” Esben shouted, pointing at the knocked down rabble. Understandably, none responded to his insult.

Aalik and Inigo soon arrived to Esben’s aid, but they instead found themselves staring wide-eyed at the results of his feat. Aalik stared back and forth between Esben and the mess below. Inigo whistled, looking impressed.

“What can I say? I had to show off at least once,” Esben said to Inigo while cracking his back. Inigo nodded and smirked.

“We might end up running out of potions at this rate,” Inigo said, feigning mockery.

Esben chuckled, before giving Inigo a friendly slap on the back. Inigo barely hid his wince, and so he complemented it with a cheery laugh of his own.

“Should we even be running at this point?” Esben turned to ask Aalik who remained with his mouth wide open.

Aalik closed his mouth and shook his head. “Nope, walking’s fine,” Aalik said absently, picking the now visible map from his shirt and putting it back inside his satchel.

The trip to the edge of the forest was rather anticlimactic, especially for the newly invigorated Esben. No guards positioned outside the fortress and not one in sight, as they went along the rest of the path. Esben scoffed.

“Talk about a sorry lot, fortress didn’t even have a portcullis for god’s sake,” Esben remarked. “Guess that’s what you get for being a throwaway pawn in the King’s chessboard.” Inigo replied.

Aalik was about to comment something along the lines of “smooth-sailing”, but before he could do so the map’s voice whispered hurriedly inside his mind. Aalik froze on the spot.

Inigo, noting this, held his saber’s hilt, stood his ground and assumed a readied stance, holding his ground. Esben quickly followed suit.The air around them grew quiet, they heard nothing besides the crashing of the cliff side waves, the faintest rustling of leaves by the edge of the forest and fainter still, though still recognizable, the straightening of rope.

Crossbow bolts zipped from the forest straight towards the trio. Inigo however, was more than ready to make use of his pre-meditated stance, and just like before, they fell to a single, masterful slash of his saber. Inigo readied himself once more, but nothing came or rather nothing he could successfully parry with his blade.

“What’s wrong with you idiots? Can’t you see I’m trying to have some peace of mind here?” an exasperated voice from within the forest reprimanded the hidden crossbowmen.

“Y-you told us to guard you while you…dealt with your necessities, captain,” one of the hidden crossbowmen responded haphazardly.

The leaves rustled and soon the gaudily dressed shape of the captain showed itself, from behind. The man busily tried to fasten his belt, all the while grumbling something about the frankly indignating lack of infrastructure at the fortress.

“Guarding me from what you dipsh-”

The captain’s voice fell flat on the last syllable as he turned around and saw at the trio in front of him. The captain tried to cry out his orders, but they came out as unintelligible mumbles instead.

“U-uh…beg your pardon Captain?” one of the nervous crossbowmen asked.

“B-B-BRANDISH YOUR BLADES! PROTECT YOUR CAPTAIN!” the captain yelled with desperation and shortly after six guards appeared from the foliage, each of them holding quivering shortswords. The captain’s henchmen stood their ground, albeit with shaky knees and sweaty faces.

“What the hell are you waiting for? Get them!” the captain screamed, half consumed by fear and rage respectively. His henchmen half-complied, each one giving miniscule, half-baked steps. These came to a halt as soon as Inigo and Esben assumed their stances however, and once both took their own steps forward so did the guards.

The captain’s men fled with terror, dropping their swords along the way, until none remained. The captain yelled, begging his men to return to his aid, but his pleas fell on deaf ears. The captain gulped and turned to face the trio in front of him.

“W-where do ye-you think y-you’re going?” the captain stammered, failing spectacularly at his intimidation attempt, more so when he nearly dropped his sword upon drawing it.

“Guess,” Inigo replied with a glare, raising his sword. “You’re in the way.”

The captain’s hands trembled and his sword fell to ground, along with his knees, hands and overall dignity. “P-please…spare me,” the captain blubbered ingloriously, holding his hands together in desperate prayer.

Inigo walked towards the pitiful sight of a man, who cowered further at every step he gave. With a sigh, Inigo slowly raised his saber; earning further pleads of mercy from the man.

The captain fell unconscious into the ground after blow from the saber’s pommel landed square on his head. Snot and tears covered the grass beneath his face while darkened patches of unsavory substances did so as well, on his trousers.

Inigo sheathed his sword and sniffed. “Your words Pirate King,” Inigo spat at the unconscious man before turning back to face his companions, with a valiant smile. “Well, what are we waiting for?”


	14. Chapter 13: The Mystic Forest

**Chapter 13: The Mystic Forest**

Though some hours of daylight remained, little of the sun’s rays managed to sliver through the twisted branches, which wrapped the weed-ridden, vine plagued, forest floor in perpetual shadow. Rustling sounds and skittering critters roamed about, always keeping their distance from the new intruders, but being close enough, as to make their presence known.

It had been little less than half an hour since Aalik, Inigo and Esben began their trek through the foreboding expanse, and already the combination of vegetation hacking and growing feelings of paranoia were beginning to take their toll, moreso the former in Esben’s case.

“We’ve been cutting damn weeds for hours,” Esben grumbled with every saber swipe, before accidentally swallowing and spitting out an unusually large cockroach, which fell from the same vines he happened to be cutting. “ _Blegh_ , good lord!”

The oversized bug skittered away from the group, and though Aalik and Inigo ignored this, having seen like-sized critters from the very entrance of the forest, Esben could not shake away the fact that the insect almost seemed to complain in its own, chirping, manner.

“And they’ll go by a lot quicker, without complaining,” Inigo joked, though he too was beginning to resent the oppressive nature of the forest. “How we doing so far Aalik?”

Aalik did not respond right away, as his face showed great strain and effort, stopping the other two in their tracks once they realized this. He soon recovered, but retained a dazed, almost confounded look to his face.

“There’s something wrong,” Aalik said, closing his eyes and rubbing his head. “You don’t have to tell me,” Esben replied, scrubbing his tongue with a grimace. Inigo rolled his eyes at Esben’s response, before looking back at Aalik. “What’s the matter?” Inigo asked.

Aalik groaned and took in a deep breath from his nose, easing his expression; as if whatever had troubled him faded away. He opened his eyes. “Nothing, the path is back on. It got all blurry for a second,” Aalik said while scratching his head. He then made a sharp turn, startling the other two, and began pointing his finger at another path in the forest. “We need turn this way.”

Inigo and Esben nodded and resumed their weed cutting duties, knocking aside the occasional, likely not complaining, critter along the way. Esben pretended not to notice, blaming the stagnant air of the forest on his delusions regarding the critter’s level of sapience.

Suddenly, the rustling sounds of the forest came to a halt, and so did the group, as per Aalik’s instruction. They reached what appeared to be an even thicker wall of vines, which Aalik scrutinized to no end. Esben scoffed at the green barrier.

“Pretty sure overgrown weed is just overgrown weed kid,” Esben said, raising his saber to hack away once more, but Inigo’s raised hand stopped him. Esben huffed and lowered the blade. “It’s strange,” Aalik said pensively.

“This whole forest is a freak show, I think we all got that memo,” Esben shot back, raising his blade once again.

“No, more than that,” Aalik replied, interrupting Esben’s vine cutting. Esben grumbled.

Aalik walked up to the vine wall and looked around, squinting his eyes. Then, he finally found what he appeared to be looking for. “There’s…two paths? How does that even-”

As if in response to Aalik’s question, the ground beneath them began to shift, along with the plants and vines around him. The map’s warnings did little to help Aalik or his companions against the surprise attack. While the group could react to the crumbling earth beneath them, they were certainly not expecting the vines themselves to grab, trip and push them forward.

The group fell, grunted and rolled through the rocky slope until they reached a gulch of tremendous size, nearly corridor-like in appearance. Thankfully, none of them was worse for wear due to the fall, and quickly recovered from it.

Aalik stood up, dusting off his shirt, and looking around wildly. He grew steadily anxious as he kept darting his gaze from place to place, ignoring the skulls, bones and tattered remains of clothing sprawled around the gulch. “It’s all muddled again, no, it’s even worse this time!” Aalik alerted his companions.

Inigo and Esben soon followed, standing up and brandishing their blades as they did. Both men began to look around, closing in on Aalik in order to protect him from both sides, while they analyzed their increasingly daunting surroundings.

“I think that’s the least of our worries right now,” Inigo said as calmly as possible, shifting his eyes to both sides of the gulch. The skittering returned, growing with every moment that passed.

“Oh boy,” Esben muttered with disgust, pushing Aalik behind him and Inigo. The chirps grew louder.

The critters crawled out, from boulders and rocks to empty logs and piles of bones, and even the smallest of dirt holes. Of all shapes and sizes they were, from kitten-sized razor maw ants to armored spiders matching the girth of a brown bear. Some hissed, others chirped, and some even appeared to be vociferating complaints to their best efforts, despite the one-sided language barrier between them and the succulent, most unfortunate, humans before them.

All moved tentatively towards the group, slowly, but surely, surrounding them. The clicks and chirps increased their ferocity, along with the snapping of jaws and skittering of countless legs. The voracious critters cared not about the human’s weapons. After all, if these two-leggers were to be as easy a meal as their previous intruders, why would they be?

They attacked. However, much to the horror of those critters that preferred to take the backseat of the action, and claim the spoils afterwards, their frontline companions met an untimely demise. All that remained was but a mound of thoraxes, legs and jaws; all thrown aside by a flurry of steel unlike anything they had ever seen before.

“Ha! Eat that you overfed pests, we can do this all day!” Esben laughed, swinging his sword around and throwing bits of slain bug to the side.

“I’m not dragging you around once we’re done!” Inigo said with a wide smile as he readied a defensive stance, clearly enjoying turning the tables on their unsuspecting assailants.

“Back at ya Dread Pirate!” Esben bellowed, slicing through a leaping roach like butter and laughing so hard he could not make out neither Aalik’s and Inigo’s warnings, nor the buzzing sound diving directly towards him.

Then, suddenly, Esben heard a loud, splattering noise right behind him. Hearing the disgusting impact Esben turned back, only to come face to face with an eagle-sized mosquito, dead on the ground in front of him, and a bloodied rock laying close by. Aalik cleared his throat.

“My hearing ain’t what it used to be,” Esben shrugged bashfully at Aalik’s stare, only to notice several more buzzing sounds around them, a whole of squadron of mosquitoes to be exact.

“Get low you two!” Inigo commanded and so they did.

The mosquitoes flew straight at Inigo, taking their chances at overwhelming the sword-wielding human with numbers, for it would only take a single strike of their venom to change the tide of the battle. They failed spectacularly, becoming nothing but reddened tint and laying limbs splattered over the gulch floor.

However, the efforts of the dead mosquitoes were not in vain, as the strain of parrying so many strikes was beginning to take its toll on Inigo, who began to heave considerably. So much so, that he could barely react to the incoming blow of a giant spider leg. Inigo managed to interpose the saber between him and the armored limb in the nick of time, but the force of the blow was too much, and it knocked him into the ground.The spider raised its spiky leg with blazing fast speeds and prepared its final strike, aiming right for Inigo’s chest.

The spider’s death-dealing attack came to a halt, for Esben stood between Inigo and death’s grip, pushing back the spider’s strike with his saber, and a great deal of effort. Infuriated, the spider pushed harder, engaging in a contest of strength with Esben, but despite Esben’s newfound energy and similar size, the spider’s additional limbs granted it an unfair advantage.

Once Esben began to be pushed back, the spider, managing a mockery of a smirk with its hand-sized fangs, slowly lifted one of its now free legs with murderous intent. However, the arachnid’s plans would not come to fruition, for a rock struck it right in its cumulation of eyes. Blinded, the spider let out a horrifying screech, covering its injured eyes with its frontal legs.

“Now!” Aalik shouted quickly, as he picked up another rock for caution’s sake and stood up to cover Inigo, who was still recovering from the arachnid’s blow.

Right on cue, and taking advantage of the creature’s distress, Esben pushed aside its leg and launched a devastating thrust directly at the unarmored connection between its head and torso. The spider shrieked in agony as the blade swiftly cut through and slipped out of its soft flesh, until it finally fell with a resounding thud on the ground.

Aalik and Esben quickly helped Inigo get back on his feet. Once they did, Aalik began to rummage through his satchel, pushing the quivering map aside and grabbing one of the few remaining potions inside it. Inigo stopped him however.

“I’ll manage, we can’t keep wasting them,” Inigo said, doing his best to dissimulate his heavy breathing as he readied himself for combat.

Aalik looked both unconvinced and annoyed at Inigo’s bravado, and was about to voice his complaints, before the growing chittering of the critters stole his attention.

“You might want to reconsider,” Esben muttered, staring at the visibly angry horde closing in on them.

“Guess they lost their sense of chivalry,” Inigo remarked, but his attempt at levity fell flat, not only earning harsh looks from his companions, but even harsher chirps and jaw snappings from the invertebrates.

“There’s too many of them, we gotta make a run for it!” Aalik cried out, ignoring the growing movement inside the satchel.

The critters did not give them the luxury of a sporting chance however, and they immediately rushed in to overrun the group. Against all odds, Aalik, Inigo and Esben met their challenge head on, roaring in defiance, as they brandished their respective weapons. And so did the map, whom, unbeknownst to either party, managed to squirm out of the satchel and jump straight between the horde and the group, before letting out a terrifying, apparently rumbling, shriek that froze the bugs on the spot.

The critters scattered back to their hiding places, having lost all will to continue. The group stared dumbfounded at the now; somehow, proud looking map, before gaining a look of relief themselves. Until they heard the rumbling again.

The map’s bravado died down as quickly as it came, and promptly fled back into the confines of the satchel. The look of relief on the group’s faces did not fare much better either, less so when loud thumping followed the rumble. Rocks and bones jumped and clattered around the gulch, along with a couple of shivering critters, which immediately returned to their hiding spots once they fell. Aalik, Inigo and Esben slowly turned to face the source of the rumbles, beads of sweat growing in their faces.

It was as tall as it was wide, as wide as the gulch itself and both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. What seemed to be the silhouette of a gigantic deer with pointed antlers was but a guise, as the more it approached the more it revealed of itself. From an additional set of legs, to spider-like fangs and eyes, the last of which bore a deep, intense glare aimed directly at the humans before it. The group shivered in unison.

“So…got any more of that legendary experience you’d love to share with us right now?”” Esben gulped and whispered to Inigo.

Inigo shifted his eyes towards Esben and then back to the beast, before turning his sight upwards, as if trying to recall a useful memory.

They ran.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

And screamed.

The ground shook with each of the monster’s lumbering steps, as it chased the group of desperate humans. Twice already, they had escaped its deathly maw, both times at sharp turns, which the beast seemed to have quite a bit of trouble managing. However, due to the group’s overall state of mind, they had yet to make that connection.

“Can’t you get that accursed parchment of yours to scare that thing off!” Esben screamed and huffed.

“I already tried, it won’t budge!” Aalik responded hurriedly, while shooting incriminatory glares at his satchel.

“Great, who knew supernatural objects, could get stage fright!” Esben shouted and face palmed.

“Focus you two, we can’t outrun this thing forever, we have to outsmart it!” Inigo exclaimed, trying to maintain a semblance of bravery within the group.

“And we’re doing a great job of it so far!” Esben said mockingly, shooting Inigo a side-glance. “AGAIN!” Aalik shouted.

Just like before, the three ducked and jumped ahead, escaping the beast’s jaws by a hair’s breadth. Despite the map’s refusal to leave the bag, it at least proved useful enough as to instruct Aalik of when to dodge the creature’s attack. Their maneuver did little in terms of evading the monster’s breath however.

“BLEGH!” Esben gagged. “I might just die from the smell before the food chain does me in!”

“You could handle fishing on your boat, I don’t see why this is problem!” Inigo said while pinching his nose, earning a foul-mouthed comeback from Esben.

Aalik however, ignored their bickering. Instead, he focused on the beast chasing them, and the noticeable difficulty it had trying to maintain its stability when performing sharp turns. His mind ran as fast as it could, staring at the rocky, loose walls of the gulch and how they shook with every step the monster gave.

_Gotta trip that thing…somehow!_

Aalik began to consider his available options at vertiginous speeds, closing his eyes in sheer concentration.

 _Water?_ Aalik thought while unconsciously dodging a huge boulder on his way, he shook his head _No, Not we don’t have enough water for that…_

 _Rope?_ Aalik asked himself, before shaking his head as he turned and saw the beast smash through said boulder with ease _Nope._

The monster closed in, the map’s grating cries of help grew louder and the stench was becoming all but unbearable. Aalik smacked his head.

_C’mon, think! There has to be a way!_

Suddenly, Aalik tripped on a small crack on the gulch floor, having ignored the map’s desperate warnings. Thankfully, Inigo and Esben caught him just in time to pull him away from the creature’s jaws.

“Watch your step!” Esben shouted angrily.

“Here, you almost dropped this!” Inigo said, as he gave Aalik one of the few potion bottles that remained.

Aalik quickly took the bottle and thanked Inigo, before eyeing the sloshing liquid within and gaining a look of realization. His smile grew even wider when he saw another sharp turn on the path, not too far ahead.

_Yes!_

Esben and Inigo pushed forward as Aalik sprinted, both surprised at his sudden rise in spirits. The monster growled and heaved in response, doing its best to match their stride, drooling from the effort like an exhausted canine. Aalik clenched the bottle tightly and readied himself. He only had one shot, and he had to make it count.

“NOW!”

The creature lunged and they jumped. As they did, Aalik spun backward, facing the creature straight in the eyes. Aalik smirked and threw the bottle directly at the ground, where the beast was about to take its next step.

The bottle cracked into a hundred pieces as it struck the ground, releasing the glowing liquid all over the rocky gulch floor. Despite its additional limbs, the creature could not react fast enough as its hoof fell, right over the growing, glowing puddle. It could only wince in anticipation.

The creature slipped and crashed right into the wall of rocks and roots. Such was the force of the impact, that a landslide fell over it, covering it almost entirely, and such was the sickening sound of crunching flesh and bone that the group winced themselves, as they stared at the fallen creature. The gulch fell dead quiet, outside of the creature’s heavy huffs, as it squirmed beneath the rubble. Only a pair of legs and its head reared out. Esben whistled with amazement.

“Damn, gotta hand it to you kid, talk about thinking on your feet!” Esben said proudly, before turning to look at Inigo. “Gotta hand it to you as well, who knew your tough guy attitude would come in handy for once?”

“Please, Aalik did all the work here, if it were up to me we’d still be going for a marathon,” Inigo responded, crossing his arms. “Right Aalik?”

However, Aalik remained silent, staring intently at the laying creature in front of him. “Aalik?” Inigo asked.

Aalik did not respond, instead he rummaged through his satchel and picked the very last potion inside. Inigo and Esben shared a confused look, which grew into that of befuddlement as Aalik began walking towards the creature. They scrambled towards him. Aalik turned back and raised a hand to stop them. Even as they did, Esben wasted no time calling out Aalik on his unexplicable course of action. Aalik paid him no mind.

“The path is still fuzzy, we’ll never leave the forest like this,” said Aalik, still looking at the creature, now only a few feet away from him. “Even if we use the map, the forest is just going to shift us around till we run out of food and water.”

Aalik continued to walk up to the creature, all the while shooting it a stony glare. The creature, though in a worsening condition, did not look intimidated but rather, intrigued by his approach.

“But you know how to, right?” Aalik asked unflinchingly, despite how close it no was to its spiderlike fangs.

“Norna was right…he’s gone mad!” Esben whispered in horror, earning an angry shush from Inigo.

The creature let out a throaty, rumbling noise in response. Despite being unintelligible to the humans, it sounded brief and almost confirmatory. Aalik nodded.

“I will help you, but you will help us cross the forest,” Aalik said.

The creature looked almost flabbergasted by his words, snorting loudly in response. Besides having a monstrous sneeze thrown at him, Aalik stood unfazed.

“I will save someone, and you will help me do it,” Aalik stated, bearing an even stronger glare than before.

The creature became silent, almost as if in thought. It did not snort, and that was enough for Aalik, for he began climbing up to the creature’s face, only to be stopped by the map’s clinging grasp on his arm. Aalik completely ignored the map’s warnings and pushed it back into the bag, before throwing into the rocky floor, much to the parchment’s chagrin.

Esben also tried to interfere but Inigo forbade him from doing so, but despite being the one giving words of re-assurance, Inigo too felt his heartbeat growing steadily faster.

Aalik approached the creature’s heaving snout, never breaking eye contact with it, and opened the bottle. The creature was still. “Drink this, it’ll fix you up,” Aalik said, extending the bottle towards the creature’s mouth.

Ever so slowly, the creature opened its fang-ridden maw, revealing one of its retracted spider fangs. Aalik’s heart skipped a beat, but he did not show it. The creature slipped the fang into the bottle and absorbed its contents in the blink of an eye, cracking the glass from the air pressure alone. The creature’s eyes shone and bulged as it reacted to the potion’s effects.

The rubble beneath Aalik began to shift and rumble, and so he quickly jumped back into the floor and grabbed back his satchel, giving himself some distance with the now rising creature. The dust of fallen rocks, pebbles and branches eventually settled, and there, in its wake, the creature stood, its gaze ever focused on the human before it.

Time might as well have become an eternity for Inigo and Esben as they stared, immobile, at the unfolding scene. Neither dared to brandish their weapons, as much as their minds screamed for them to do so. Aalik however, did not share their fears to such extent, and he made it known to the creature towering over him, by not backing down, from its unblinking stare.

The creature turned its back on the humans and began walking away from the rubble. Aalik followed suit, gesturing Inigo and Esben to do so as well. They did, if with understandable reluctance.

Near the forest’s edge, an armored man kneeled down and contemplated several broken bolts that lay on the ground. He appeared to be deeply concentrated, as not even the cries of one his superiors made him budge.

“Truly Gudmand! As much as groveling in dirt might be worthy activity for you, we already know all about their half-baked marksmanship,” Flemming said mockingly, as he gestured towards the tow of tied-down ruffians kneeling by the forest’s entrance.

“They did not miss their shot, not the trajectory at least,” Gudmand responded absentmindedly, not bothering to face the increasingly frustrated commander. Flemming sniffed.

“You earnestly expect me to believe someone deflected crossbow fire? Do I look like a fresh recruit to you, Gudmand?” Flemming shot back, but Gudmand paid him no mind, drawing further ire from Flemming.

“Belief has no bearing here commander, it can be done and I have proof, that is all I need,” Gudmand said calmly, while he stared intently at the slashing damage of the bolt in his hand.

Flemming scoffed. “Demotion was far too kind for a man like you Gudmand,” Flemming said, dripping spite with every word. “Now, if it were up to me-”

The clinking of high quality, ornamental armor, and steady, methodical steps closing in made Flemming’s words die in his mouth. He spun and gave a haphazard salute, whereas Gudmand did so as well, but in a far more collected, and most importantly, dignified manner.

“Your majesty! We’ve rounded up the remaining stragglers, as you can see!” Flemming exclaimed hastily. His King however, said nothing, and walked by past him. Flemming felt relief coursing through him and nearly let his guard down, until he saw the King’s side-glance from the corner of his eye. A shiver ran up his spine.

The tied-up ruffians fared no better, cowering and mumbling prayers as the King passed them by, who did not even care for their existence. Eventually the King’s steps came to a stop, and before him, cowering under his bone-chilling stare, knelt a blubbering man.

“Y-your Majesty! To what do we owe the honor of your presence!” the captain muttered, his attempt at hospitality failing thoroughly.

Silence. The captain’s heartbeat grew louder.

“A-ah, I can see you’ve inspected our progress!” the captain blubbered, pointing with his head at the map in the King’s belt. “Quite the odyssey it has been, your excellence!”

A questioning head tilt. The captain shifted his eyes at the disaster of an operation surrounding him, and gulped.

“Oh, you need not worry. T-this was all but a pebble in the road my lord! We’ll make it up to you, I promise you that, on my honor and life!” the captain stammered, bowing his head in repentance. Beads of his cold sweat fell profusely over the grass beneath him, the pit of anxiety in his stomach felt emptier than it had ever been.

“You are correct.”

The captain, assuming the best, smiled incredulously and rose his head, thankful of this second chance given to him by providence itself. It was his last. The captain’s body fell to the ground as soon as it had risen. A growing puddle of maroon covered the grass beneath it. The King sheathed his sword.

The execution earned looks of subdued surprise from the King’s men and cries of terror from the ruffians. All reacted accordingly to the King’s terrifying exertion of control and authority. All did, but Gudmand, who merely glanced before returning to his inspection of the broken sets of ammunition.

“Flemming,” the King said. Flemming nearly jumped. “Yes your Majesty?” Flemming asked while bowing.

“You should put more faith in Gudmand’s judgment, not only is he an extension of my will, but he is perhaps one of the few instances of my late father’s proper judge of character,” the King said calmly, though it did little to ease Flemming’s nerves.

“Forgive me your Majesty, I meant no disrespect,” Flemming knelt and bowed down. Though his feelings of panic died down, as the King commanded him to rise, he remained with his head hung low.

“Your thoughts Gudmand?” The King asked, facing the entrance of the forest.

“Someone skilled enough to deflect crossbow bolts,” Gumand explained, looking at the blurry tracks around him. “And two others, a small but elite force it seems.”

The King nodded. “Ready the men and mounts Flemming, we shall enter the forest and seize the thieves. Time is of the essence,” The King commanded quietly. Flemming’s eyes bulged and nearly choked.

“Your Majesty, with all due respect, we do not have the means of crossing the forest, the map only covered half of it,” Flemming responded nervously, earning a subtle, unnerving smile from the King.

“You worry too much commander,” the King said with a soft edge to his voice, looking at the captured men around him. They quivered in fear.

“We have plenty of bait to go around.”


	15. Chapter 14: The Heart of the Forest

**Chapter 14: The Heart of the Forest**

The trek through the rest of the forest was rather, uneventful. There were no traps, tripping plants or surprise attacks. It was peaceful but dreary, the more the group walked, the more they realized the decrepit state of the forest. Mighty oaks were now all but moss-ridden husks. Cow webs plagued the scenery and the ground was dusty and cracked, riddled with bones and dried-up exoskeletons.

Inigo and Esben’s alertness remained, but it was now subdued, compared to their growing feelings of pity, towards what might have once been. Aalik however, focused on the task ahead, standing side by side with the creature as it led the group forward. Eventually the group came upon a wall of brambles and thorns. Esben quickly drew his blade, but just as quickly put it down, when the creature’s loud huffing told him otherwise.

The creature, visibly annoyed, let out what seemed to be a requesting grumble. Nothing happened, much to its frustration. It huffed and grumbled again, though much louder this time, shaking the ground around it. The wall began to open up, slithering until the vines formed an opening large enough to let the group pass. Aalik, Inigo and Esben did so with special care, staring at the brambles, as they shifted and squirmed all around them.

Twilight sky rays shone above the clearing, illuminating a huge, twisted trunk in its center. Even from a distance, the trunk appeared to be several times larger than the creature leading the group. Brambles covered the near-entirety of the dry bark, revealing only a dark, foreboding arc opening, going deep inside the depths of the trunk. Aalik, Inigo and Esben stood alert by the edge of the wall, for the creature did not move, it growled.

The ground beyond them began to shuffle, revealing formerly invisible brambles plaguing the clearing. These soon dispersed and slithered back to the trunk, as if begrudgingly accepting the creature’s request. A sense of paranoia grew amongst the group as they followed the creature to the entrance, for danger loomed around every corner, watching their every move-

* * *

“Ok ok, put the scary stuff on hold dad, I got a bit of a question,” the boy interrupted.

The father raised his eyebrows in response, silently telling him to go on with his question.

“How come that Gudmand guy survived? That makes no sense!” the boy asked, incredulously.

The father chuckled. “Well, Inigo did too and I don’t see you complaining about that,” the father remarked. His son became quiet for a moment.

“I mean, I get it with Inigo and all but,” the boy mumbled, unsure of what to say next. His father seized the opportunity.

“You seem to be getting it pretty well, with all the magical potions, living plants, giant monsters and whatnot, what’s so hard about picturing another castaway graced upon by fate?” the father asked amusedly. His son harrumphed.

“I just hope Inigo gets to beat him up this time,” the boy said flatly. His father smiled and went back to narrating.

* * *

In complete and utter darkness, one would be lost, unless of course you happened to be following a gargantuan monster with multiple sets of glowing eyes.

“Beats having to waste a torch that’s for sure. Unnerving as _that_ may be,” Inigo whispered while pointing at the creature. Esben sniffed lightly.

“We _don’t_ have any torches to begin with, because _someone_ packed them all up inside the boat when we left,” Esben said, whispering harshly.

“Packing up before any journey is a combined effort Esben, a seasoned veteran such as yourself should know that,” Inigo replied with a smirk. Esben shot him a flat stare, Inigo shrugged.

“Besides, I’ve dealt with worse; fumbling in the dark isn’t something a little optimism can’t handle,” Inigo said leisurely.

It was then that the creature’s steps came to a halt and its eyes lost its glow, darkening the tunnel pitch black. None could see beyond the tip of their nose.

“That optimism of yours still on?” Esben said before pinching his nose with disgust. “UGH, what’s that smell?”

“Always,” Inigo responded all too quickly, while also pinching his nose.

Aalik shushed them both. It was then that the creature began to groan, almost as if it were both annoyed and accustomed at what was happening. Before anyone could have commented upon that however, a blinding flash of light engulfed the entirety of the chamber.

After overcoming the sudden blindness, the group opened their eyes. What they saw before them both perplexed and intimidated them. Even Aalik, who had managed to maintain a sense of stoicism, could not help but feel alarmed. A gigantic skull made up of sickly, green flames rose above them, staring at them with red, glowing eyes. Energy pulsated from it, and the group felt it to their very bones.

“WHO DARES ENTER MY LAIR!” the skull shouted with a rumbling, otherworldly voice, shaking the entirety of the cave.

Aalik clenched his fists and took a step forward. The skull’s eyes flared like crimson wildfire in response to his approach. “We-” Aalik tried to respond, but was cut short by another surge of energy of the skull, pushing him backwards.

“YOU INSOLENT CHILD!” the skull roared with unbridled fury, letting out flames that nearly consumed Aalik, if it were not for him dropping to the ground at the last moment. The skull’s fiery gaze grew stronger.

“TURN BACK NOW OR FACE THE DIRE CONSEQUENCES! TURN BACK OR YOU WILL WISH YOU WERE NEVER BORN! TURN B- _ack_ ”

The skull began coughing profusely, earning looks of confusion from Aalik, Inigo and Esben. Its flames grew dimmer and its image faded, until it became nothing but a wisp that dissipated in the darkness. The coughs and gags went on, though the voice was no longer that of a booming demon, but rather, a clearly annoyed woman.

“Even god-forsaken conjurations these days, give me a break,” the voice muttered, before clapping twice. Several mushrooms on the roof began to flicker and glow, illuminating the now visible chamber inside the opening of the tunnel. Aalik, Inigo and Esben could not help but cringe at the sorry state of the room.

Mossy bookshelves covered the walls, some of the books inside no longer any different from square shaped mold. A boiling cauldron filled with foul-smelling contents hung from a chain attached to the roof. Broken potions and brews lay on the floor, along with crumpled parchments and thrown bowls with blackened, leftover gruel.

“That explains it,” Esben gagged, despite pinching his nose as hard as humanly possible.

The creature growled, but not in response to Esben’s valid remark. It was then that the group began to hear light shuffling and grumbling coming from the center of the chamber. Energy flickered around the center, slowly forming the silhouetted shape until said energy concentrated and dispersed, revealing the formerly invisible woman.

The graying, robed woman appeared to be in her middle age, but there was something in her eyes, besides general unhappiness. They were tired, that much as certain, but they were also ancient, far more than her appearance would imply.

“There! Happy, you cranky beast?” the woman crankily asked the creature. It huffed back at her, to which she responded with a wide and colorful assortment of complaints. Aalik sighed.

“Miss!” Aalik asked firmly. Inigo and Esben stared at him precariously.

The woman ceased her back and forth with the creature and gave Aalik an icy stare, before stomping her way to him. Aalik stood his ground and so did Inigo and Esben, if with slightly more effort.

“Didn’t your mother teach you manners _boy_? Never speak over your elders!” the woman said in a low, threatening growl.

Aalik’s eyes widened for a brief moment, but he quickly composed himself, and rose up to the challenge of the woman’s less than friendly attitude. “She also taught me that respect is something you earn, and you’re not doing a very good job of it so far,” Aalik said, wiping off some of the soot off his clothes. The woman was not amused.

“He didn’t mean no disrespect madam, he…” Inigo quickly broke into the conversation. “Yeah, kid’s just been through a lot lately, please…” Esben did so as well.

The woman, never taking her eyes off Aalik, simply waved her hand and zipped Inigo and Esben’s mouths tight. Their eyes bulged with surprise and immediately tried to open them again, to no avail.

“You should try to temper your tongue boy; I’ve been running quite low on _key_ ingredients for some of my stronger incantations,” the woman said menacingly. Aalik however, was unfazed, unlike the quivering map inside his satchel.

“You’re the one mixing up the path, aren’t you?” Aalik said, squinting his eyes at the woman.

“Quite the observant one! And _you_ must be the savages that have been wreaking havoc in my forest,” the woman replied with mock sweetness.

“Didn’t see your name written over it,” Aalik responded. The woman’s eye twitched. Inigo and Esben screamed internally.

“Little _brat_ , do you even know who you’re talking to?” the woman whispered harshly, her voice causing the chamber to rumble once more. The mushrooms lost their glow, as the woman’s eyes engulfed in green flames.

Aalik did not back down, and the woman did not take kindly to that, not at all.

“I AM THE MIGHTY WITCH OF THE FOREST! EVERYTHING AROUND ME IS MY DOMAIN! NOTHING GETS BY ME, FOR EVERYTHING IS UNDER MY EVERY WHIM!”

the Witch roared, causing pebbles and rocks to fall off the roof as it shook uncontrollably. A boulder followed.

The map did everything in its power to warn Aalik, just as Inigo and Esben tried to do with their muffled cries, but Aalik did the exact opposite. Instead of jumping out of harm’s way to save himself, he leapt and tackled the Witch, pushing them both just in time before the boulder crushed them both. Once the dust settled in the chamber and the mushrooms regained their glow, Aalik stood up and gave a hand to the laying Witch. She slapped it away.

“I can stand on my own, thank you very much,” the Witch said as she struggled to stand up on her own. The creature snorted.

“Be grateful…be _grateful_? Why did you even bring these hooligans to begin with you foul- mouthed lug!” the Witch turned and spat at the creature. It growled at her.

“Worthy?” the Witch asked incredulously, while pointing back at an increasingly annoyed Aalik. The creature grumbled and nodded.

“Oh for the god’s sake, the kid using healing magic? Have you been munching on rotten mushrooms again?” the Witch asked with growing exasperation while rubbing her temple. Aalik cleared his throat.

“My name is Aalik, _ma’am_ , and my friends could greet you properly too, if you would be kind enough to unzip their mouths,” Aalik said dryly. The creature grumbled in approval of Aalik’s request.

The Witch sighed and closed her eyes. With the same swift hand motion Inigo and Esben’s mouths unzipped, much to their relief.

“Thank you kindly, madam,” said Inigo slowly, while massaging his cheeks.

Esben only did the latter, wholeheartedly preferring to mutter instead of thanking the Witch.

The Witch did not pay notice to either however, passing them altogether as she went to inspect the creature. She placed her hand on the creature’s fur, closed her eyes and focused intensely, before opening them in sudden realization.

“You were right about the healing magic part,” the Witch whispered, before standing up to face the group before her. “Alright brat; either you’re a prodigy or a sham, spit it out.”

“What?” Aalik asked. The Witch rolled her eyes.

“Don’t play dumb with me; someone patched up this oaf and I’m sure as all hell I didn’t,” the Witch said plainly, furrowing her brow.

“Miss Norna, the town healer, she made them for us, I just gave the last one to your…um, friend?” Aalik responded quizzically.

A knowing look flashed on the Witche’s eyes as she began to cackle mockingly, earning curious looks and shrugs from the group, as well as the creature above her.

“That old witch hasn’t bitten the big one yet?” the Witch chuckled dryly. “Now that’s impressive.”

Inigo and Esben’s eyes widened as they looked at each other, sharing looks of surprise. Aalik did not seem to care much about the revelation however.

“You’re her…uh…daughter?” Inigo asked tentatively, scratching his chin.

The witch sniffed and gave him a deadpan look. “Curb your flattery swashbuckler,” the Witch responded with dead seriousness. “We share blood and nothing more.”

“Well, I can definitely see the resemblance, in more ways than one,” Esben scoffed and crossed his arms.

The Witch gave him a snide smile. “Shall I zip your lips forever this time?” she asked with feigned cordiality, freezing Esben’s blood.

Esben, willingly, shut his mouth, giving much flat joy to the Witch. Aalik on the other hand, did not find the threats the least bit amusing and walked up to the Witch, unbothered by her intimidating gaze.

“Alright I told you what you asked, can you let us pass now?” Aalik asked firmly.

The Witch laughed heartily upon hearing this, until the creature’s annoyed growls ceased her fit. “Stop pestering! I won’t let some brat and a couple of has-beens through the forest, all because you deemed them fit,” the Witch responded without even looking at the ticked-off creature. It growled harder.

“I don’t care if you deem us fit or not, we will go through!” Aalik shouted, stopping the creature’s growls and garnering the Witches genuine, if derisive, curiosity. Inigo and Esben, meanwhile, prayed silently.

“You seem to have a bit of willpower on you boy; the map on your satchel has been pleading you to escape ever since you’ve entered my lair,” the Witch said calmly as she pointed at Aalik’s bag. Aalik unconsciously grasped the satchel.

“Yeah, and what of it? That good enough for you!” Aalik asked infuriated, closing the distance between him and the Witch and standing with all the additional height his tiptoeing could muster, in order to face her eye to eye. The Witch scoffed and waved her hand.

Aalik froze instantly. All but his eyes stood still, allowing him to see the Witches claw-like finger slowly approaching his forehead. He could clearly hear the maps screams, but could only imagine his own.

“We’ll find out soon enough.” The Witch said; her voice muffled to Aalik’s ears.

The world went dark. Nothing around and nothing beyond, for it was not a void, as even that would have been something. His body was far more than immobile; it was not even there. Only his thoughts remained.

_Where am I?_

A light hum responded from afar, its rumbling sound ever growing. It pleaded for him, it called for him, and it commanded him to move forward. Aalik knew the source perfectly well, for he had felt it before. Aalik followed the hum, his mind a blank, cleansed of thought and worry.

Only a moment had passed. Both Inigo and Esben drew their blades in unison after their eyes recovered from the flash of light. They did not care for the beast before them nor for the Witches ghastly spells, all that mattered to them was to save Aalik, consequences be damned.

“YOU WITCH! LET HIM GO, NOW!” Esben cried out with rage. Inigo glared with equal ferocity.

To their surprise, Esben’s outcry passed the Witch entirely, as if she could not even hear to begin with. Her face was locked in strain and effort; eyes glowing and flickering with green energy, as beads of sweat profusely fell from her chin.

Inigo and Esben wasted no time and seized the opportunity, roaring and running towards the Witch, their blades ready to take her down and free Aalik from the clutches of her magic. Such efforts where for naught however. A darkened blur clouded their vision, their blades sinking deep into a wall of fur and flesh. Both Inigo and Esben grimaced and looked upwards, coming face to face with the impassive visage of the creature. It stood still and unflinching, despite its bleeding wounds. There was no rage in its hybrid, multiple-eyed expression, nothing at all to alarm the survival instincts of the two men below it.

Esben took no chances however, and immediately proceeded to attempt to remove the sword from the creature, but it was futile. No matter how much he tried and gritted his teeth, the saber would simply not budge.

“Esben, stop,” Inigo said quietly, having left his own saber stuck on the creature.

Esben grunted in response, his face red from attempting to free the saber. Eventually, after a roar or two from sheer exertion, he gave up and gasped to recover his breath.

“Will you listen to me now?” Inigo asked, placing a hand on Esben’s shoulder.

Esben raised his head, still gasping for breath, his eyebrows furrowed with incredulity. “Don’t...just…stand there!” Esben spat between breaths, picking himself up. “We have to get Aalik out of here!”

“We will, we just have to wait,” Inigo said, with a faint uncertainty to his voice. Esben stared, flabbergasted at Inigo’s words.

“Please, don’t tell me you’ve gone mad as well,” Esben whispered as he squinted his eyes at Inigo. Inigo sighed, closed his eyes and shook his head, before turning to look at the creature above them. “I’m not sure why. I am no expert in the arcane, but we cannot interfere…not now anyway,” Inigo responded, his pauses further showing the apprehension of his own judgment. Esben remained wary.

“Heavens above, you’re not off, you’ve burned the whole god damn rocker,” Esben gasped with horror. Inigo sighed.

Before Inigo could disprove Esben’s view regarding his sanity, a guttural sound from the creature caught Esben’s attention. Esben stared at the creature’s beady eyes, and though he could see nothing but his own reflection inside of them, he somehow sensed a feeling of reassurance. This, of course, confounded him to no end.

As if taking Esben’s loss of words as a cue, the creature stood up, loosening its body and dropping the sabers stuck to it into the ground. Inigo and Esben stared at the blood-covered swords but refrained from wielding them once again.

The creature moved aside, letting Inigo and Esben gaze upon the still frozen pair. A field of flickering, magical energy covered Aalik and the Witch. Esben grit his teeth, feeling impotence consume every bit of his being, and for the fraction of a moment. He glanced at the saber near his feet. His hand curled into a shaking fist, until Inigo’s hand on his shoulder made him turn around.

“He can do this,” Inigo stated, his expression stoic yet brimming with resolve. “You know he can.” Esben frowned and looked at Aalik. Strain and defiance showed all over Aalik’s features, as if he was combating the Witches spell, and from the looks of it, he was not going to give in any time soon. Esben’s fist uncurled and relaxed, though his frown remained. He stood there along with Inigo, unable to do anything more than to trust and wait.

**_What is it that you fight for?_ **

Aalik ignored the Witches voice as he attempted to get near the spinning crystal, but it was always out of reach, eluding him without effort as it slipped deeper into the endless abyss.

**_That you strive for?_ **

Aalik had no body here, but he could still picture himself gritting his teeth in frustration. The crystal would not give in, no matter how much he tried.

**_That you would die for?_ **

But Aalik would not give up, were the chase to be endless he would not have cared. His mind, heart and soul were set, engraved in resolve stronger than steel. Such was his will, and he made it known.

Finally, the crystal stopped. Aalik reached for it, and while he could not directly touch it, he could still bask in its ethereal beauty and listen to the lulling lullaby of its hum. No longer was it an oppressive, enthralling force. He welcomed it, knowing without doubt that it would hold to its end of the deal. It yanked away from him.

**_Is it gold?_ **

An illusion of riches flooded his mind’s eye. Sparkling, shiny and decadent mounds of man’s flawed idea of worth, as far as the eye could see. Aalik tossed it all away.

**_Legacy? Is it a legacy?_ **

An afterimage showed itself. It possessed a thousand names and a thousand faces, evoking timeless feelings for the ages to come. Aalik felt nothing and let it pass him by.

**_Power surely?_ **

A fortress wider than the infinite horizon rose up from the abyss, countless eyeless faces sprouted from its walls, fused with the infinite construction. Aalik went right through it, reducing it to rubble.

Once the ethereal smoke dispersed, the crystal appeared before Aalik, humming with growing strength as it shone through the remains of the illusionary fortress. Aalik reached for the crystal once again, only for it to dissipate like the previous illusions, dispersing through the eternal void that enveloped him. Desperation overtook Aalik as he futilely tried to grasp at the misty remains. They were long gone by now.

**_Not bad, not bad at all, now-_ **

****

“SHUT UP!”

The Witch gasped and opened her eyes, nearly breaking her concentration on the spell. She stared at the boy in front of her with disbelief, and so did Inigo and Esben. Magic still cocooned Aalik, but his body struggled against it, to the point where it had allowed him to shout outside of his spellbound prison.

Surpassing her initial surprise, the Witches face began to twist with rage. Her age marks grew with every passing moment as she tried to recover the control of her spell.“You insolent brat, I wasn’t finished,” The Witch sneered at Aalik, focusing and reinforcing the magic surrounding Aalik. His mouth quivered.

“NO!”

The spell began to flash erratically, as if it were breaking apart at the seams, and with it, Aalik took a single step forward. The Witch gritted her teeth, as veins began to pop on her forehead from the effort to maintain the integrity of the spell. Aalik took another step.

“I DIDN’T COME THIS FAR…JUST TO BE TESTED!”

Her mind ran as quickly as she could, trying to come up with different illusions to further test Aalik’s willpower. All of a sudden, ages of experience and a repertoire of options appeared as thin as they were worthless. But one had to work, right?

“STOP THAT!”

Energy flared, popped and crackled as the Witch fell to the ground, desperately clinging onto whatever faint trace of magic maintained the spell. Another step.

“YOU,”

The integrity of the spell became no less similar than the thin trickle of blood flowing from her nose. She wiped herself with the sleeve of her cloak and pushed herself up with much effort. No illusion could sway Aalik that much she knew, but her pride and paranoia would not allow her to stop just yet. _I have sent it enough shams as it is, I cannot take any more chances. Let see if this-_

“WILL LET US PASS!”

Aalik opened his eyes and roared, breaking through the Witches last-ditch effort and shattering the spell containing him, the energy of which knocked the Witch back into the floor. Eventually, the last wisps of energy faded away and the mushrooms regained their luminosity. The cavern became dead silent, besides the Witches groans of discomfort.

Aalik stomped up to her and pulled her up, despite her complaints. Once she stood up, she swatted his hands away. Her head hung low, purposefully avoiding Aalik’s glare.

“Congratulations,” the Witch chuckled hoarsely, her voice no stronger than a whisper. Aalik squinted his eyes with distrust.

Inigo and Esben ran up to Aalik, asking about his well-being. He confirmed with a silent nod, his sights still set on the coughing Witch.

“You’ve passed the test,” the Witch said, now looking at Aalik straight in the eye with a wicked smirk. Inigo and Esben wasted no time placing themselves between Aalik and the Witch. She ignored them just as well as Aalik did her intimidating, bloodied grin.

“Now now, no need to feel so threatened by an old husk,” the Witch coughed, before cleaning her mouth with her blood stained sleeve. “Ease yourselves, I’ll have you three escorted to the edge of the forest…and you can stop giving me that look you overgrown beast!”

The creature snorted at her accusation.

“What kind of test?” Inigo asked sternly, shooting a prying look at the Witch. She laughed weakly.

“You don’t need to worry yourself about such things, he aced it! What is there to worry about?” the Witch replied with a flaunting tone. Esben did not take kindly to it.

“Shut my lips for eternity if you want to witch, you try to play anymore of your tricks on us and god hear me, I’ll make it your last,” Esben growled through closed teeth, as he pointed a finger at the Witch.

She rolled her eyes and waved her hand dramatically. “You should try washing your mouth before talking up close to someone; no one will even notice your threats otherwise,” the Witch responded as she scrunched her nose and waved away the smell.

Esben fumed and shook with rage, giving side-glances to his saber laying on the ground. Before his brashness got the better of him however, Aalik gave him a tired, pleading look, successfully easing his rage, though not by much.

“We’ve got no time to waste, are you’re gonna take us out of this forest or not?” Aalik asked forcefully.

The Witch smiled and raised her hands in a defensive manner. “I’m a witch of my word,” the Witch proclaimed with noticeable exaggeration, before turning to face the grumbling creature. “Do be a dear and show them the way out…”

The words died before leaving her mouth, along with her smile. Color dropped from her already pale face, and her eyes began to dart around maniacally as she started to hyperventilate. Immediately, the creature stood up, free of its previous lethargy. It directed its sights upwards, to the roof of the cavern. Every hair in its body stood up, as if reacting to whatever appeared to be above ground.

Aalik did not know the reason why, but he could no longer ignore the map’s cries, now a shriek alerting him about an imminent danger above.

“Hey! What’s happening?” Aalik shouted, trying to snap the Witch out of her daze, to no avail. Frustrated, he grabbed and shook the Witches shoulders.

Aalik screamed with pain, instantly drawing his hand away from the burning sensation of the Witches cloak. He stared at his reddened palm with horror, for it was no illusion.

Shortly after, the Witch composed herself, as much as one would find possible when assailed by blazing heat. “Take them with you Ukigatta,” the Witch whispered, heaving with every word. Ukigatta nodded solemnly.

Much to the surprise of Aalik, Inigo and Esben, she no longer appeared middle-aged. Her skin hung loose and her eyes were sunken and milky.

“Y-your face,” Aalik said with concern. The Witch shook her head.

“There’s no time, you have to leave, now,” She coughed as she struggled to keep herself from tumbling back into the ground. “Follow Ukigatta he’ll lead you out.”

“Whatever is the matter? If there is something to be handled, we can handle it just fine,” Inigo exclaimed, no doubt trying to wane the tension inside the cavern, to little effect.

“They’re burning it down, all of it,” the Witch hissed in pain, clutching her side and dropping knees first into the floor. “They’ve surrounded…got inside the trunk…they’re so many, there’s just so many…leave…LEAVE NOW!”

Ukigatta growled at the group, lowering himself and gesturing them with his head to climb up his back. However, Aalik and Inigo could not help but stare at the sorry state of the Witch. Esben yanked them away.

“You heard the lady!” Esben shouted, but Inigo shook off his grip.

“We can’t just leave her alone Esben, have some heart!” Inigo screamed back.

“Get your eyes checked Inigo, we wasted all the potions, there’s nothing we can do!” Esben responded furiously. Aalik shook of his hand as well and ran up to help the Witch.

The Witch raised her hand, stopping Aalik. “Listen to your friend boy, my time is up,” she said quietly, before giving him one last ghoulish grin “So I’ll buy you some instead.”

Without a word, Esben lifted Aalik off the ground and ran off, jumping along with Inigo into Ukigatta's back. Ukigatta galloped away into the darkened depths of the cave, leaving the Witch behind, alone with the remains of her study. Even as the darkness grew behind them, Aalik kept on looking back.

Ukigatta's muffled galloping soon faded away into the depths of the tunnel, only the Witches shaky breaths and the hum of the cavern mushrooms remained. Another cough dripped red on the floor beneath her, but she did not clean her face this time. Blades, fire and death coursed through every fiber of her being. From every root to dying leaf, from every being to their leftover husks, all attached to her like veins to her core.

Magic, even more than life itself, was always a fickle thing, like the flow of a mighty river put down by the presence of a single drought. She knew it well, for she had tried everything in her power to keep the trickle from dying out, victim to a causality far beyond her power. She cared not for sacrifices made to keep it flowing, nor for the thing that helped her to keep it alive. After ages of waiting, her goal would be fulfilled, she felt fulfilled, and that was all that mattered.

The Witch stared straight towards the entrance, piercing through the darkness with her sunken, blinded eyes, her grin wide from ear to ear. There was no fear, no regret, nothing but joy. She took her last breath.

_“You’re welcome.”_


	16. Chapter 15: Reckless Abandon

**Chapter 15: Reckless Abandon**

Aalik, Inigo and Esben grabbed on to Ukigatta’s fur as he galloped through the seemingly endless tunnel, the path illuminated by his multiple, glowing eyes. They were all dead quiet, only the clopping of Ukigatta’s monstrous hooves resonated throughout the cavern along with his occasional huffs of effort. Soon after however, the slope of the cavern began to turn upwards and a bright, orange light shone from afar, revealing the end of their obscured path.

Ukigatta picked up the pace, drawing closer and closer into the light. He huffed and groaned, less so due to the exertion, but more because of how harshly the group of humans on his back clung onto his fur. How insignificant, and strangely nostalgic, these minor grievances would seem to him later on.

Everything burned, consumed by the growing, blistering flames. Though night had already fallen, the forest was orange tinted and brightly lit, all thanks to the sweeping wave of death. Nowhere was safe. Every branch was a deadly, burning stake waiting to drop on an unsuspecting victim, every dried up log and tree fuel to an already insatiable fire. The ground and grass too were aflame, but thankfully, Ukigatta’s hooves were large and hardened enough as to ignore the crawling flames.

Ukigatta, knowing there was no time to waste, sped up, powering through his burning eyelids and lack of breath.

“What kind of madman would burn down a whole forest?” Esben coughed out, before ducking a protruding branch. “Enchanted or otherwise.”

“Save your breath Esben!” Inigo hacked in response, closing his eyes from the heat of the fire “We cannot afford to dawdle!”

“LOOK OUT! JUMP!” Aalik screamed suddenly, surprising all but Ukigatta.

Trusting Aalik’s connection with the map, Ukigatta paid heed to the warning and leaped forward, narrowly avoiding the humongous tree branch that feel into the ground, scattering soot and red-hot splinters.

“This whole place is falling apart; can’t this thing go any faster?” Esben coughed.

Ukigatta huffed angrily in response and galloped further, adding an intentionally high spring to his step until the oppressive air prevented him from doing so.

“He’s got a name you know!” Inigo said through closed teeth, huffing from the effort to keep himself attached to Ukigatta’s back.

“I don’t care! What’s his name here should be getting us out of this mess, instead of complaining!” Esben shot back at Inigo, who chose to remain silent instead of earning more of Esben’s diatribes.

Wood twisted and cracked above them. “AGAIN!” Aalik shouted firmly. Ukigatta jumped.

The wall of toxic fumes had already taken their toll however, for the collapsing branch grazed Ukigatta’s back, as did some cinders to Esben’s clothing. Ukigatta showed little reaction, despite his fading energy however. Esben not so much.

“Good lord!” Esben screamed as he desperately put out the flames on his clothes and those on Ukigatta’s fur. “We’re going to die at this rate!”

“No, we’re getting closer,” Aalik exclaimed, his head always pointing forward, despite his closed eyes. “I can feel it.”

“I hope so! I don’t want to find out how many jumps he can handle!” Inigo responded as he helped Esben put out the last of the flames on Ukigatta’s back.

Aalik grit his teeth, focusing on the path’s calling, now fully clear of any interference. They were close; he knew that full well, as it pulsated with Ukigatta’s every step. Hope welled up inside of Aalik, his spirits lifting to the point where the scorching heat felt like nothing but a breeze to him.

_We can do this! WE CAN DO THIS!_

The map cried out another warning, but before Aalik could have relayed the message, his own dumbfoundedness betrayed him.

_From everywhere? What?_

Guttural, primal cries roared all around the group as charred, disfigured men jumped from the treetops and nearby briar patches, their savagery and relentlessness sharply contrasting their deteriorating shapes. Several fell victim to Ukigatta’s tramples, jaws and antlers, but the rest struggled and held on, digging their nail-less fingers into his flesh. Ukigatta roared in pain.

Much to Inigo’s and Esben’s surprise, their saber slashes did little to stop their ambushers, for as soon as their hands were severed, the crazed, burnt men immediately reacted, as if pain were but an afterthought.

“ _Good lord_ ,” Esben gasped and coughed. Inigo stared wide-eyed.

Using foot, teeth and stump the savages kept on climbing Ukigatta’s back, their ghastly visages dead-set on Aalik. Fighting against the heat, smoke and Ukigatta’s tilting gallop, Inigo and Esben stood and placed themselves between Aalik and the crazed men, their swords ready.

One by one the savages fell, dropping back into the forest floor with each saber strike. However, more kept on coming from the treetops, uncaring about anything, but Aalik’s presence before them. Even with the notorious gap in skill and sanity, the sheer numbers of the mad men were beginning to whittle down Inigo and Esben, their movements slowing down fractionally with each death- dealing strike. Soon, fatigue clouded their vision and claimed their reflexes.

It was then, that the last and largest of the mad men dropped over Ukigatta’s back. Unlike the rest however, this one wielded two shortswords, keeping himself from falling into the scorched earth by stabbing them deep into Ukigatta’s hide. Ukigatta’s pained spasm flung Inigo and Esben into the air, along with both of their sabers.

Inigo and Esben could only stare at the flaming ground beneath and the savages engulfed in it. Their hands reached out as their lives gave away and their mouths hung wide open, in the purest form of horror he had ever witnessed.

Inigo had felt death’s grip many times before, and had fooled it just as many. But now, he knew it to be true, there would be no escape, he had failed _I’m sorry Aalik._

“GOTCHA!”

Inigo opened his eyes and saw himself hanging in mid-air, barely a few feet away from certain doom. That was, before he realized the grip on his leg and looked back. He managed a strained smile.

“I OWE YOU MY LIFE ESBEN!” Inigo shouted.

“DON’T GO MAKING EMPTY PROMISES!” Esben screamed back, grimacing from the effort of holding onto Inigo’s leg and Ukigatta’s tail, which flung him back and forth every step of the way. The celebration was short-lived however, cut to a halt by the sound of drawn, bloodied, blades.

“AALIK!” Inigo and Esben screamed in unison as they looked back. Aalik kept quiet.

“I..I’ve… _give it_ ….GOT…Y-you..NOW!” the maniac cried out erratically, while brandishing his dual weapons. Though his voice was hoarse and raspy, there was a flash of recognition on Inigo and Esben’s faces.

“I know that voice,” Inigo coughed as he stared at the shape of the maniac, only to further recognize his appearance, despite the man’s gruesome wounds.

“It’s that dumb brute from the fortress!” Esben gasped out with surprise.

And surprised they were indeed, for gone was Edvard’s smile, torpidity and mild-mannered demeanor. Only pure, unadulterated hatred remained.

“AALIK!” Inigo and Esben screamed. Aalik did not move a muscle.

“ _Back_ …y-you…l-little…MONSTER!” Edvard growled and hacked as he slowly approached Aalik. Once again, Aalik did not react.

“It’s…. _mine_ …it’s…ALL YOUR FAULT!” Edvard coughed and cried out with enraged sorrow. “Y-You DID THIS… _give it_ …THEY…K-KILLED HIM! BECAUSE OF YOU!”

Aalik did not turn his head to face him. Edvard heaved uncontrollably, now only a few inches away him.

“Cap-Captain…giv…give…him…BACK,” Edvard cried out and blubbered as he raised his swords with trembling hands. His twisted expression of grief and rage soon faded however, becoming one of lunatic obsession instead. Edvard roared. “GIVE ME THE MAP!”

“AALIK!”

“DUCK!” Aalik commanded. Ukigatta complied.

Suddenly, Edvard’s feet lifted off Ukigatta’s back. He did not see his blow come to fruition, nor did he see anything at all after a huge, burning branch burst right through his chest, leaving him hanging over the forest floor for the flames to reach out and consume his body.

Inigo and Esben stared both horrified and relieved, but their relief would not last for long.

“HOLD ON” Aalik warned.

Inigo and Esben looked back quizzically, but braced themselves nevertheless.

Soon after, Ukigatta’s movements became jerky and uneven, far more than before. He pushed as much as he could against the all-encompassing pain, but it was too much. His legs gave out, dropping him and the humans hanging on to him into the ground. Luckily, for Inigo and Esben, Ukigatta’s hide softened their fall upon impact, as did for Aalik, who remained on top of Ukigatta’s back.

The flames gave them little room for rest however, as they spread towards them with every passing moment. Feeling the growing danger, Aalik slid back into the floor with Inigo and Esben, whom were picking themselves up after the fall.

“What do we do now?” Inigo asked, groaning as he caressed his back.

Aalik eye’s flashed back and forth between Ukigatta and the clearing up ahead. The map’s warnings grew louder than ever, clamoring Aalik to make way and escape, intensifying the desire to reach his goal. However, the sight of Ukigatta, laying battered and bloodied on the forest floor, held back his single- mindedness. Aalik could not say a word, finding himself at an inner impasse.

They had no time for that however, and Esben knew it.

“COME ON! STAND UP!” Esben yelled as he ran up and placed his hands on Ukigatta’s belly. He then took a deep breath and prepared himself to squeeze every bit of strength he could muster out of his body.

Inigo and Aalik immediately accompanied Esben. Despite knowing that their efforts would amount to little, compared to his. They had to help, one way or another. Esben cracked a smile at their gesture, before preparing himself to lift Ukigatta. The veins on his forehead grew and bulged to unnatural degrees, just as much as his muscles and bones suffered from the effort, but he pushed all of those worries aside.

Slowly, but surely, Ukigatta rose from the ground. His legs trembled, and his being as a whole was but a husk, holding onto a thread of life. However, Ukigatta knew he had to forward, to honor the efforts of these humans, as well as his master’s last will. Once Ukigatta regained his balance, Esben dropped to his knees and clutched his back in pain.

Inigo and Aalik helped Esben to stand, but as they did, a huge branch fell over them. Aalik, having no time to react accordingly, could only scream and close his eyes as he braced himself for the impact. The ground around them shook suddenly, and with it came a sickening crunch of wood over flesh. Aalik opened his eyes.

Ukigatta stood above them, having just taken the full brunt of the falling branch. Flames covered and consumed the fur on his back, but to everyone’s surprise and pitying admiration, he paid them no heed. Ukigatta began to walk, gesturing them to follow with his head, as he kept them beneath him at all times. Every step of the way, the forest deteriorated further, conversely strengthening the map’s pleads inside Aalik’s head, but Aalik knew them to be pointless, for Ukigatta had made up his mind.

More branches of all sizes fell over along the way, but Ukigatta did not even flinch. He kept moving forward, the edge of the forest now only a few meters away. Despite the smoke and abrasiveness of the heat, the sight became clear to them all. There it was, the base of the icy peaks, extending towards the sky as far as the eye could see, and in said base was a cavern, large enough to fit Ukigatta himself.

Aalik, Inigo and Esben could not help but smile and sigh in relief as they finally escaped the forest and approached the entrance of the cavern. Aalik’s faded instantly however, thanks to the map’s horrifying shrieks.

**_“DEATH, DEATH FROM ABOVE!”_ **

Knowing he could do little else, Aalik screamed. In the blink of an eye, a rain of arrows swooped from the sky and fell all-over Ukigatta, breaking through his unflinching resolve. His legs trembled and his body spasmed as blood spilled profusely from his wounds.

After a moment of deathly silence, Ukigatta resumed his gallop, much more forcefully and erratic this time around, leaving Aalik, Inigo and Esben behind as he ran towards the cavern, only to fall unceremoniously into the floor, few feet away from the entrance.

Right when the group ran towards Ukigatta’s aid, the nearing sound of galloping caught their attention, shifting their sights back to the edge of the forest. It was then that several, heavily armed, horseback riders jumped out of the charred foliage, many of which already had their longbows loaded and ready as they surrounded Aalik, Inigo, Esben and Ukigatta.

Amongst them stood out three riders, possessing armor, weapons and helmets denoting of a higher standing compared to the rest of the soldiers. Case in point, the middle rider raised his hand and the longbowmen immediately lowered their weapons. Silence swept the clearing as the three riders removed their helmets, and so did it remain afterwards.

Looks shifted and sights met, like predators weighing their adversaries. From hatred to mockery, from surprise to sheer admiration. Emotions flared and changed, but no one dared to make the first move, that is, no one but the middle rider, who dismounted and took a few steps ahead of his battalion.

Out of the three, he did not react in the slightest during the exchange, his pallid, chilling gaze ever frozen in a detached and yet, almost joyful state. “Evening citizens,” the King formally greeted. “I must commend you on your courage; your survival was most unexpected.”

Esben, groaning from the effort, stood up from where Ukigatta lay and shot a glare at the otherwise indifferent King. “We don’t need your compliments, you sick _freak_!” Esben spat with pure hatred.

The King blinked, his smile unchanged. “And who might you be?” the King asked sincerely but with an undertone of condescendence.

Esben coughed and chuckled. “Esben,” Esben snarled at the King, earning no change in the man’s expression.

“Well, whoever you may be, you and your cohorts should know better than to take what isn’t rightfully yours,” the King chided lightly.

Esben’s frown intensified. “Shut the hell up! You burned down a wholem, god damn forest!” Esben screamed, further pointing his finger at the impassive King. “You’re no king; you’re just a lunatic playing dress up!”

Upon hearing Esben’s insult one of the soldiers moved his hand to the nock of his longbow. All it took was for the soldier to see the King’s momentary side-glance from the corner of his eye, before fumbling about and letting go of his weapon.

“…In the path towards greatness, burning down a thicket of weeds is no worse than tossing aside a stepping stone, no matter where it, or who, it may land upon,” the King explained dutifully. “A legend in the making knows it to be true, for it has been that way since man crawled out of the slime.”

Esben gritted his teeth, both from pain and indignancy, but before he could have retaliated against the King’s speech, Inigo walked up next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Muttering something inaudible, Esben sighed and knelt back into the ground with Aalik, proceeding to help the boy in preventing Ukigatta’s wounds from opening further.

Inigo, frowning at the sight and the growing pool of blood, turned back to face the King, who was mildly intrigued at his sudden intervention. “And, pray tell, what good would that have done your majesty? Whatever it is you’re looking for could have burnt to a crisp, not to mention that setting a fire in the middle of a forest with yourself and your army in it…well,“ Inigo said as he crossed his arms. “If that’s not faulty logic, then I don’t know what is.”

The King’s smile grew wider. “I cannot blame you on the basis of your judgment…,” the King said, before trailing off and squinting his eyes at Inigo, pointing a finger at him, as if asking for something.

“Inigo,” Inigo replied.

The King nodded cordially and smiled once again. “The clearing in the middle of the forest was quite a breathing spot believe it or not,” the King stated. “Not that we had to worry about prosecuting you right away, we did have a, most kind, voluntary army doing the scouting for us, as you may remember.”

Inigo simply stared, horrified at the King’s words and tranquil expression. Flashes of the lunatic ambushers, burnt mockeries of their former selves, coursed through his mind, leaving him speechless. The King smirked at his silence.

“As for your other question, well, in my years of intense research trying to find credence and fact to the tale of the hidden crystal, most all accounts had similar passages attributing a characteristic cowardice to the link, between the late host and the crystal. But not once did it mention its complete and utter destruction, no matter how severe the damage,” the King said, with light amusement.

Aalik immediately grasped his satchel and mentally shushed the map’s squirming, earning a curious glance from the King, which Aalik chose to ignore.

The King smirked and cleared his throat. “It would have fared just as well inside a wildfire as it would have in the heart of a volcano, painful as though that might have been for it. Recovering is of no issue to the link, a thorough search of the remains of the forest, and anyone within it, would have yielded the same result,” the King exclaimed with unfitting amounts of calm.

Inigo stood tall, trying his best to keep his composure despite the gravity of the situation. “Well, I’m sure we can come to an agreement,” Inigo responded, a tiny bit too quickly for his own liking.

“Absolutely,” the King replied with a knowing smile, before snapping his fingers. “Commander.” “Your majesty,” Flemming responded with a haphazard salute and bow.

“End the beast’s misery,” the King ordered as he turned his sights towards Aalik and the satchel tightly held within the boy’ arm. “But leave these three alive. They just might prove themselves of worth down the line.”

Flemming nodded and gave a quick gesture to the rest of the battalion. The soldiers readied their sabers and resumed their gallops, slowly encircling the group before them. The soldiers march grew tortuous not only for Aalik, thanks to the map’s outcry of imminent danger, but for Inigo and Esben as well.

Being outnumbered to such a degree was demoralizing enough, but to have no chance of protecting their cause or giving Aalik one last escape attempt, now that was soul crushing, but they would still try, Aalik had to keep on going. Whatever chance there was for them to make, they would make it, no matter the odds.

Inigo and Esben stood tall, side by side, unintimidated by the soldier’s mocking smirks and their superior numbers. Suddenly, Aalik stood up. Inigo and Esben quickly glanced back at him, curious of his puzzled look.

“What’s wrong?” Inigo asked, darting his eyes back and forth at the approaching soldiers. “…It went quiet…” Aalik whispered.

Esben frowned. “It what now?”

The ground shook, cracked and rumbled violently, startling human and horse alike. Many riders tumbled and fell from their crazed mounts while others could barely hold on to theirs. Then, the earthquake stopped, as if it never happened.

One of the soldiers, still jittering from the unlikely event, looked around and dismounted with much caution. After a few moments of testing the ground below him with heavy steps, the soldier smiled at his colleagues and took a tentative step forward. Green flames erupted from the ground, instantly consuming the unassuming soldier, without even giving him a chance to let out his final scream.

The fiery barrier rose between the soldiers and the cavern entrance, successfully blocking off the entire army from Aalik, Inigo, Esben and Ukigatta. The last of the horses whinnied and ran off, while their riders plummeted into the ground, as their startled screams filled the edge of the forest.

Aalik’s sight soon recovered from the brightness of the flames, allowing him to take in the familiar sight of a skull within them. This time however, there was no expression to the shape, no reaction or emotion whatsoever, as if its sole purpose were to stand guard, and somehow, Aalik knew it, he could feel it.

However, before Aalik could have voiced his thoughts, the ground besides him shook again, and to his and his companion’s surprise, Ukigatta had risen up to his full height. Without a moment to waste, Ukigatta roared at the group as he limped his way into the depths of the tunnel. After wiping their sweat from the magical heat, they followed Ukigatta, with Aalik and Inigo helping Esben run along, only to come to a halt moments afterward.

Though Ukigatta’s luminescent eyes had already lost most of their luster, the flames outside were still enough to illuminate the end of the tunnel. It opened up and formed a dome like formation, with jagged, seemingly uneven rocks covering its walls.

“What now?” Esben groaned at the sight as he knelt on the ground and caressed his back.

“It can’t be a dead end Esben, there’s got to be something…” Inigo responded hastily, before trailing off and trying his luck with some of the protruding stones in the wall, pushing it until his face turned red. Aalik and Esben simply stared at his efforts.

A clicking sound came about.

“Aha! It’s working!” Inigo grunted, only to realize that the stone he had been attempting to move had not budged one inch.

The group turned and saw Ukigatta standing in the entrance of the dome, as well as noticing the shifting stone mechanism moving just above him. Ukigatta then tilted his head upward and moved another set of rocks with his antlers.

Another clicking sound came about.

They had no time to react as the ground shifted and gave away like quicksand. It did not matter how hard they tried to climb out of the sinking pit, grasping air would have been just as difficult.

Esben screamed, Inigo held his hopes and Aalik watched, watched as Ukigatta turned his back on them and faced the entrance of the dome, watched as the green light of the flames outside faded and died out, leaving nothing but darkness behind.

Now Aalik could see, was the faintest hint of Ukigatta’s luminescence, flickering as he stood protecting the end of the tunnel, heaving with every breath as if it were a stab. But in spite of it all, there was a decisiveness to Ukigatta that filled Aalik’s heart with respect, more than it did with pity and sorrow. Eventually, Aalik sank further into the sands, along with Inigo and Esben.

No longer seeing anything but the darkened roof above as the sands clouded his vision, Aalik closed his eyes and held his breath, and then all went dark.


	17. Chapter 16: The Lost World

**Chapter 16: The Lost World**

After a moment of sliding down the darkened tunnel, which almost seemed like an eternity, Aalik, Inigo and Esben finally saw a dim, glowing light at the end of it, and then, they all fell over into a mound of sand. Once they coughed copious amounts of sand, picked themselves up, dusted off their clothes and rubbed their eyes, to their best efforts, their sights turned upward. Their mouths went agape, in complete and utter befuddlement, save for Aalik.

“Good lord,” Esben whispered and rubbed his eyes, as to make sense of what he was seeing. “That’s one for the memoirs,” Inigo added quietly, as the sight too mesmerized him.

What appeared to be a mere cavern grew beyond their expectations, illuminated by massive clusters of green crystals, spread throughout the enormity of it all. It was a conglomeration of ruins of all shapes and sizes, covered by hieroglyphs of indescribable meaning and a sense of a time gone by, leaving behind a shell of what was. To call it an ancient city would have it done little justice, for it was so much more.

Without a word, Aalik skipped past Inigo and Esben, whom were still taking in the vision before them. Aalik’s brisk pace stopped at a large, elevated platform connecting to the arc-like entrance of the intricate ruins. He looked upwards, his sights glued to the furthermost elevation of the structure conglomerate.

Noting this, Inigo went over to help Esben stand, but he had already managed to regain his footing, if with a slight limp to his gait. “So, where to?” Esben asked once he reached the platform along with Inigo.

“Up there,” Aalik said, pointing at a far-off end of the ruins.

The end of the tunnel shaped structure connected to the wall, and atop it, was the largest cluster of crystals in the subterranean ruins. Now, where the tunnel began amongst the hundreds of buildings and passages was anyone’s guess.

“Whatever it was the architects were having, now that I’d love to know,” Inigo commented with a brief chuckle.

Esben snorted and shook his head. “You don’t happen to have to temple robbing on your resume do you?” Esben asked.

“I’ve had my share. Nothing comes to mind right now though,” Inigo responded casually, as he continued to look around the twists and turns of the structures.

Aalik walked past them again, his face locked in a stern, focused expression.

“Aalik?” Inigo asked with concern, snapping out of his remembrance.

“We have to keep moving, you know that,” Aalik responded offhandedly without looking back, and went through the entrance of the ruins.

A pained look showed in Inigo’s face, as he and Esben caught up with Aalik, and such remorseful frown would have deepened further, if it were not for Esben giving him a friendly pat on the back.

“C’mon…can’t leave the kid alone, now can we?” Esben said comprehensively, as he straightened his back with an audible crack. Inigo nodded and smiled.

The ruins would have proven downright deadly for the average explorer, but luckily, for the group, the combination of Inigo’s adventuring wisdom, and Aalik’s mystical connection to the nigh-on paranoiac map, proved to be more than enough, when dealing against the diverse array of traps and other death-inducing contraptions.

However, while their path had been practically seamless, having reached the halfway point after a while of pre-emptively evading crushing walls and spiked pits, something weighed on the group, namely Inigo and Esben, and it was not the oppressive air of the ruins. In fact, all of the traps crumbled or simply stopped working after being activated, matching the deteriorating state of the structures. The decrepit danger before them was but an afterthought, compared to the inevitability that loomed over.

With every step, Aalik grew distant, increasingly focused on the path before him. No longer did he vocally alert Inigo and Esben, as he had before in the surface, and instead gave them small physical cues, foretelling the danger to be in a subtler, almost disregarding manner. This however, was not because of Aalik giving in to the map’s guidelines; both he and the parchment knew who was in command after all. It was, rather, the calling of his destination, its hum vibrating faintly, yet deeply, within his ears, pleading to him as he drew closer, like a spider lulling a fly into its web.

Inigo and Esben looked at each other with worry. They had already known the effects the voyage could eventually have on Aalik, as did Aalik himself, having been told by Norna the days before their departure, but to know that the only one able to fight its thrall was Aalik alone ate them away, no matter the confidence they placed on him.

To know that such a fight could now very well be a lost cause, now that was an unbearable thought. They knew it to be a possibility from the very beginning, but pushed the likelihood to the back of their minds. After a moment of scrambled thinking, Esben took in a deep breath, picked his pace and reached Aalik, who did not even react to his presence.

“Aalik…” Esben said, not even earning a glance.

Without notice, Aalik ducked, prompting Inigo and Esben to drop into the rocky floor. A shower of arrows flew over the group from both sides, breaking off into splinters as they hit the walls. Immediately after, the mechanisms that launched the arrows creaked, rumbled and fell apart, like the many traps before it.

Aalik quickly got up afterwards and continued his path, with Inigo and Esben following close behind.

Esben frowned and gave Inigo a glance as they tried to keep up with Aalik. Inigo sighed and nodded. “Aalik!” Inigo called, to no avail.

Esben stomped and walked harder, in spite of his injuries. “Look kid, I’m sure that big monster fella is alright-” Esben harrumphed, before stopping his steps and words as soon as Aalik stopped moving.

Right in cue, several boulders fell right in front of Aalik from a hidden roof compartment. He stood there, unflinching at the barrage of rocks and the resulting rubble, before proceeding to climb over it with ease once it stopped.

“I ain’t no good at this sweet-talking stuff,” Esben muttered as he climbed the mound of shattered stone with Inigo’s aid.

“You said it yourself Esben, as long as we are there for him then that’s good enough,” Inigo responded with a hopeful tone, and a slight groan, while he helped Esben up to the top of the rubble.

Esben rolled his eyes with faint playfulness. “Pretty sure that’s not what I said,” Esben chuckled, before coughing up some dirt. “Have to admit, you did say it much better.”

Inigo smiled lightly at Esben’s comment until he noticed Aalik’s near-frozen like state, as did Esben shortly after.

Aalik stood right beside them, his sights entirely immersed on the tunnel roof above. Seeing this, Inigo and Esben turned to look as well. There it was, visible from a crack on the wall, surrounded by a multitude of luminescent crystals and closer than ever. The end of their path. Aalik trembled the more he stared, causing Inigo and Esben’s immediate panic and concern, and just as that happened, the ground began to shake as well.

Two familiar clicking noises sounded in succession, resonating throughout the ruins, amplified by its impressive echo. With it, the rumbling became stronger, to the point where the mountain of rubble Aalik, Inigo and Esben stood on soon fell apart.

Aalik and Inigo had little trouble sliding down the makeshift landslide, but such was not the case for Esben, who lost his balance halfway and plummeted into the ground, letting out a sharp cry of pain on impact. Said cry finally broke through Aalik’s undivided attention, for he ran to Esben’s aid, much to Esben and Inigo’s pleasant surprise.

As Aalik and Inigo helped Esben up however, the ground rumbled once more, though thankfully this time their footing remained steady. Soon after the tremor ceased, and what followed shot a sense of realization and terror to the group’s veins. It was the far-off sounds of metallic armor and sand falling over a rocky floor, as well as hasty shouts of command accompanied by equally hurried armored steps. The King and his battalion had successfully activated the entrance mechanism and made their way into the ruins. At that moment, the group knew. Ukigatta was no more.

“C’mon you two let’s get a move on!” Esben whispered harshly, pushing Aalik and Inigo forward, breaking them out of their aghast states.

They ran as fast as they could with Esben limping close behind. They dodged volleys of arrows and crushing corridors by a hair’s breadth, no longer having the luxury of taking their time with each and every trap they came across. Adding to the sense of urgency as well, was the King and his advancing forces, their echoing, clanging steps plaguing the corridors and chambers.

The noise rattled Aalik, Inigo and Esben’s ears, as the soldiers closed in without effort, thanks to the tall-tale path of broken traps and unintentional destruction the group had left in their wake. However, Aalik knew their destination was closer than ever, and even with the added benefit of a straightforward, treachery-free path, the soldiers should not be able to catch up to them in time.

Aalik's spirits raised as he ran through an enormous, downwards slope and focused on the large set of stairs at the very end. These led the path to a giant, decorated door, its details blurred by the inclement passage of time. With every step towards it, Aalik felt the pulse growing stronger. _Just a little more!_ Then, Esben’s back cracked.

“ESBEN!” Inigo cried out as he and Aalik ran to help their friend, who now lay on the ground clutching his back in pain.

“Guess the potion’s running out of juice,” Esben muttered, while Inigo and Aalik helped him to stand up. “Alright, alright just…just gotta take a step-“

Another clicking noise came about, and the ruins shook, for Esben had unknowingly stepped over a hidden switch. Inigo and Esben darted their sights around as the ground rumbled, looking for any compartments or death traps coming their way, then the rumbling ceased and nothing came after. They sighed with relief.

However, Aalik’s sudden shiver and head turn were quick in shutting down such feelings of safety. As the group turned backwards, a humongous, spherical boulder as wide as the tunnel itself, dropped from a secret compartment, at the very beginning of the slope, letting out a booming thud as it fell into the ground.The group stared horrified at the colossal sphere, only for it to not move at all and crack shortly after the fall.

The group sighed in relief. Then, what started as a small chink in the sphere, spread out and grew, letting out clouds of dust as it did, until finally, the cracks broke apart the boulder into a tremendous mass of rubble. A mass that soon became a landslide, heading straight towards them.

Aalik and Inigo ran, or at least tried to, while helping Esben run along, despite his loud protests and insistence on letting him trot on his own. The landslide drew closer with every passing moment, in tandem to the group’s growing desperation, for they had only reached the end of the slope with double the effort.

The staircase before them seemed endless given their current situation, but the effort it would take to climb it all was a much preferable alternative, to the wave of crushing stone and dust closing in. They kept on running.

As they did, the rubble kept on crashing and piling below, filling out the staircase at an alarming rate. With every step they gained, the landslide gained two. They heaved and nearly tripped several times, but through sheer force of will they kept on going until they finally reached the door.

It was enormous up close, made of decaying yet extremely heavy wood and unfortunately for them, it was tight shut, but not because of some age-old lock, riddle or mechanism, and if it had been at one point then it most certainly did not work anymore. No, it was simply too heavy, as Aalik soon came to find out.

“WHY WON’T YOU BUDGE!” Aalik yelled as he futilely pushed and slammed the door, earning little more than sore hands and further exhaustion. Inigo did so as well, minus the yelling, and found just as much success.

The landslide kept on coming, now being only moments away from engulfing the group whole. Aalik and Inigo pushed relentlessly, turning red from the effort, and then, suddenly, the door budged and creaked. Their eyes shot wide open in surprise.

Right beside them was Esben, equally tired and red, pushing the door with all of his might. His bones creaked and popped loudly, sounding clear and crisp, even against the offsetting rumbling of the landslide behind them. Unfortunately, it was not enough. The wave of rubble was now mere steps away and would certainly crush them all at the speed in-

 _“AAAAAAAAAH!”_ Esben roared and with one mighty push, slammed the door wide open.

With little time left to react, Esben grabbed Aalik and Inigo and leapt into the wide chamber before them, pushed forward by the force of the landslide crashing into the chamber’s entrance. As they fell, Esben pulled Aalik and Inigo closer in midair, protecting them from any incoming rocks and debris.

Luckily, mounds of sand covered up the floor of the temple-like chamber, which softened their landing. They were still, until the entirety of the debris and dust settled, and once they stood up, they could finally take in the sight around them.

Multiple, undecipherable forms and shapes showed across the walls and colossal pillars inside the chamber. No one could discern any meaning out of them, less so the purpose of the room itself, outside of its eerie, solemn decorum. It all mattered little to them however, for the end of the ruins was just ahead.

It was a darkened, uneven cave entrance situated above a smooth, vertical pillar connected to the same tunnel structure that they saw from afar, when they first got into the ruins. Aalik quickly shook off the sand and unconsciously began to walk ahead, only to come to a halt thanks to the map’s warnings.

Holding back a fed-up groan Aalik turned back and saw the, almost entirely, covered-up entrance of the chamber.The rubble did not manage to seal off the entrance in its entirety; in fact, there was an opening large enough for someone, or even manyin proper order, to go through. As if in cue to his increasingly paranoid thoughts, Aalik heard the far-off sounds of metallic steps coming from the opening.

“They’re coming!” Aalik whispered harshly.

“Kingly wacko sure doesn’t know when to give up…I’ll give him that,” Esben groaned as Inigo helped him up.

“How are we getting up there? That pillar is too smooth to climb, so is the rest of the wall,” Inigo commented, as he pointed a finger at the pillar.

Aalik’s eyes moved rapidly, as he scrambled through his thoughts. Then, he began to open up his satchel. A few moments later and he had masterfully, and quickly, tied up the end of the rope into a small lasso. With that done, the group hastily made their way up to the pillar.

The sound of armored steps grew steadily louder the more ground the group covered of the enormous chamber. The soldiers were gaining on them, but the group could do little about that, given Esben’s condition.

When they finally arrived, Aalik wasted no time and gave the rope a good throw. As soon as it fell over one of the many protruding rocks, close to the cavern’s entrance, he pulled and fastened it until it was secure.

“Nicely done,” Inigo remarked, before letting go of Esben who grabbed onto the rope and gave it another testing pull.

“Yeah this’ll do, c’mon Aalik you go first,” Esben said, gesturing Aalik to climb up, before looking back at Inigo “Alright, your turn.”

“Don’t think so, I’m not letting you fall into the ground again,” Inigo responded with a resolute yet kind smile, before giving Esben a pat in the back. “Up you go, let me know if you need a boost,” Inigo said and Esben begrudgingly complied with a sigh.

Aalik had little issue handling the steepness of the pillar, occasionally using the tiniest edge of brick he could find as both a resting spot and a small boost. Inigo and Esben did not fare as well however.

“You alright Esben?” Inigo asked.

“Yeah…I’m fine…don’t hurt as much as walking…that’s for sure,” Esben heaved as he used one of said edges as a resting spot, as best he could anyway. “Hey…hey Aalik slow down!”

“Aalik!” Inigo shouted, to no avail. Aalik kept on climbing.

“Listen to me kid! We don’t all have magical mapslooking out for us!” Esben barked as he resumed his climb with pained effort. “You spring another one of those traps and we’re not…hey what’s the matter? Why’d you stop?”

Aalik became frozen still, hanging onto the rope with a vice-like grip. It took Inigo and Esben little time to realize what that meant, and immediately became twice as alert to their surroundings, but no trap sprang out, nor did hidden compartment filled with rocks dump its contents over them.

It was much worse. Soon, they realized the utter silence of the chamber, unlike moments before, where the clanging of the metallic steps still sounded from afar. Inigo and Esben breathed heavily in anticipation, until finally, the characteristic pull of longbow strings sounded in their ears, coming from the opening in the chamber’s collapsed entrance.

It all happened in the fraction of a moment. In the brink of time, Esben pulled back a catatonic Aalik by the leg, saving him from the deathly aimed arrows. Unfortunately, several grazed his arm as he did, as well as his legs and parts of his back, but he paid the pain no mind and kept on shielding Aalik from the assault.

“ESBEN!” Inigo shouted.

At that moment, Esben felt the tip of an arrow slightly pierce the back of his neck. However, just when he thought it all over, the arrowhead went no further than that, for it quickly pulled back. Esben gave a look downwards and saw Inigo, just as worse for wear, throwing away the bloodied arrow that would have done him in. Esben smiled and grimaced, before climbing up again, though this time single handedly and carrying an immobile Aalik.

Inigo and Esben climbed as fast as they could, only to hear the tensing strings once more.

With the top of the pillar being only a few feet away, they knew that taking the risk was the only option they had, and so, they took it. Using whatever advantage the slightly protruding bricks of the pillar gave, Inigo and Esben pushed and jumped, thrusting themselves at the ledge and flipping over to the other side, narrowly escaping the barrage of arrows coming their way.

They gasped for breath and took cover on the rocky floor, until the volley of arrows ceased. As soon as that happened, Esben kicked the stone with the tied up rope. The rock crumbled upon impact, breaking apart and falling into the chamber.

Having done that, Inigo and Esben crouched and crawled their way towards the darkened cavern, not wanting to take any chances by running upright. Then, all of a sudden and almost instinctively, Aalik started to move again and broke out of Esben’s hold.

“Finally snapped out of it eh?” Esben asked with both concern and surprise.

“I…yes…I’m fine,” Aalik blinked, gasped and shook his head. After a moment of recognizing his surroundings, Aalik stared horrified at his friend’s wounds.

“We’ll be fine Aalik, you said it yourself, we have to keep moving,” Inigo said reassuringly, before crawling along with Esben.

Aalik frowned and followed, ignoring the growing pit of guilt in his stomach, as he too crawled his way into the depths of the cave. Eventually the group met dead end, much to Esben’s fury.

Suddenly, a green, dimly lit glow of unknown origin began to illuminate the walls, showing markings and hieroglyphs of all shapes and sizes, all of which ended up connecting to a pentagon shape etched to the center of the wall in front of them. Out of the entire group, Aalik seemed the most enraptured by this, for he kept staring intently at the pentagon, as if he could see what lay beyond it, as if it were calling to him, as if, it were alive.

Inigo and Esben on the other hand, lied down and rested. However, shortly after they began taking their breather, the repeating sounds of metal clashing and piercing stone made its way to the end of the cavern, shocking them both out of their well-deserved rest.

“That’s it I’ve had it!” Esben stood up with a noticeable limp, largely offset by his unbridled rage.

“No need to worry Esben, there’s got to be a way out of here, just like before. We just need to figure it out,” Inigo said, with as much positivity as he could muster. “We’ll make it out of this mess, you’ll see. Help us out, will you Aalik...Aalik?”

Hearing no response, Inigo and Esben immediately turned back, and much to their horror, Aalik was gone. Their hearts nearly jumped out of their bodies, as they began to pound on the walls, calling out for the missing boy. No one called back. Whatever hope was left in them, began to seep out, and they were powerless to stop it.

Esben seethed and snarled. Filled with defiant rage, he glared at the pentagon at the center of the wall and rushed towards it, his arms raised as a gorilla would before smashing its enemy to pieces.

Inigo ran to stop him, knowing that striking a solid stone cave wall was well beyond Esben’s abilities, or perhaps, knowing that Esben knew it just as well and simply did not care about what could happen. He managed to grab ahold of Esben’s ragged, military coat but it mattered none, Esben dragged him along with little trouble, along the inevitable collision course.

Inigo winced and closed his eyes, as Esben rammed into the wall, but to his surprise, he felt no impact, nor did he hear one, in fact, he did not see anything at all when he opened his eyes, beyond the sight of his own nose.

Esben was not anywhere and nor was Aalik, there was only a void, all encompassing, dark and eternal. Inigo tried to yell, but nothing came out, just like the nothing around him. Then, in the blink of an eye, Inigo felt himself pulled and dragged, as if falling erratically in every direction there could be.

Once again, his cries were futile. He was powerless. There was only nothing.


	18. Chapter 17: Remembrance

**Chapter 17: Remembrance**

The rocking of the boat and the calming sloshing of the waves gave Aalik a sense of peace and familiarity. There was not a worry in his mind as he felt the early summer sun warming his face. His mind was content, a clean slate enjoying the moment. Then someone gave the boat a light, insistent tap, intruding Aalik’s rest.

“Hey wake up, we’re here, you don’t wanna miss it,” a familiar voice whispered kindly.

Such was the surprise of hearing said voice, that Aalik immediately got up from his lethargy and saw the crisp image of his father, sitting beside him in their old fishing boat. Aalik’s sheer mixture of disbelief and joy fell flat to the man, who was entirely focused on the water below and their soon to be catch swimming in it.

Aalik asked no questions, nor did he give much thought to what was happening. Any traces of doubt faded from him and were replaced by a comforting feeling of acceptance.

“Couldn’t sleep before we left huh?” his father asked with a knowing smile.

“No, I couldn’t,” Aalik responded groggily, his voice cracking as it welled up with barely contained emotion.

Aalik’s father turned to face him and ruffled his hair, as he gave him a warm, kind smile. “Had a bad dream again didn’t you?”

Aalik shook his head and wiped his tears with his forearm.

“Come here, take a look. This ought to brighten you up,” the man said while gesturing Aalik to sit by his side.

Aalik sat down and stared at the water, seeing the large, fleeting shape underneath. It swam close by to his father’s lure but it never quite bit, as if it suspected it to be a deadly meal. The man did not mind the fish’s cautiousness however, in fact, as Aalik knew perfectly well, his father always enjoyed a good challenge. After all, food always tastes better the harder you work for it.

“That’s a crafty one, how long do you think it will take?” the man asked Aalik, without taking his sights away from the eventual catch.

“How long you’ve been at it?” Aalik asked groggily.

“About five minutes,” the responded before giving it a second thought. “Make it six.” “A minute tops then,” Aalik said casually.

“Better hope you call it right, I’m first served once we get home if you aren’t,” his father responded mirthfully.

Aalik rolled his eyes playfully. “You know I’ve always been right when calling it dad,” Aalik shot back, while staring confidently at the ever-clearer shape of the fish, a fat, juicy and most importantly, enormous, prize winning Halibut.

Aalik’s father chuckled and shook his head, before his face turned serious once again. The man’s hands tightened around the fishing rod with anticipation, as did every bone and fiber of his body. “Remember Aalik, no matter how slippery or stubborn the catch may be, or how badly the sun burns up your face, you always-”

“Have to wait, till the right moment comes its way,” Aalik completed happily and nodded. His father smirked with pride.

True to Aalik’s words, it took less than a minute for the Halibut to bite the bait and in one swift movement; his father pulled and threw the humongous fish into the boat. The fish shook and struggled, shaking the boat thanks to its sheer size as it did, but it eventually gave up and stopped.

Aalik admired the sheer size of their catch, just as much as he thought of the sheer amount of food it would yield for weeks to come. “Told ya,” Aalik chuckled.

His father laughed heartily as he got up, put down his fishing rod and proceeded to unwrap the sail. “What that’s it? We’re not coming back with just one fish, are we?” Aalik asked.

“One?” His father responded with befuddlement, before pointing back at a net filled with medium- sized cod. “Got a bunch of those while you were out snoozing. You should really give early-sleeping a try Aalik, otherwise, I will never heart the end of it from your mother.”

Aalik could have sworn the net was not there when he woke up to begin with, nor the rest of their fishing equipment, but he quickly chalked it up to his lack of sleep and nodded contently at his father’s words. Then, an idea occurred to him.

“Hey dad! Let me try it. It’s still pretty early,” Aalik said.

His father did not appear to hear Aalik’s words as he kept on unwrapping the boat sail. It was only when he was more than halfway done, that his face showed a hint of muted surprise. “Oh…of course!” the man responded unevenly, as if breaking out of a trance.

Aalik paid no mind to his father’s change of inflection however, and instead went to pick up the fishing rod, place the bait on the hook and throw the line into the water. His father sat back next to him. “Maybe I’ll catch an even bigger one this time huh?” Aalik commented as he saw yet another large figure swimming close by.

It was too quick and swam far too deep to make it out fully, but Aalik’s confidence remained undeterred. This was going to be a catch the village would sing about for months or even years to come.

“And have it drag you underwater? What are you crazy, you want to catch a cold that badly?” his father scolded him jokingly.

Aalik smirked back and his father ruffled his hair once more. Minutes passed on and yet, Aalik cherished them like years. There were no words, only the waves, seagulls, the flapping of the boat’s half-unwrapped sail and the ocean’s calm; all music to his ears. The fact that the even larger, now perfectly visible Halibut was closer than ever made his heart scream in further joy and his smile became as wide as could be. Things could only get better. Then, father stood up.

“What happened? What’s going on?” Aalik asked, surprised at the suddenness of the movement. His father however, did not respond.

Thunder rumbled, startling Aalik and sending a shiver down his spine. No longer did he care about the prize-winning Halibut, less so when it swam away. Aalik immediately raised his sights and felt a pit of fear and worry grow deep in his stomach. There it was, covering the entirety of the clear, blue sky. Stormclouds, gathering, foreboding and heading straight for their boat, which was but a speck in the massive, open sea.

“DAD!” Aalik screamed and stood up, dropping the fishing rod into the boat floor. His father, meanwhile, scrambled and hastily unwrapped the rest of the sail. Luckily, the winds were on their side, and pushed the boat away from the approaching storm. Unfortunately, for them, the waters were most certainly not.

After a flash of lightning and rumble from afar, enormous walls of water suddenly rose from what used to be a tranquil sea, relentlessly slamming the boat, as to sink it into the briny depths. Aalik’s father did not give in to the ocean’s pull however. With the help of his trusty paddles, he pushed the boat forward, adding to the strength of the wind.

Aalik on the other hand, did little else but watch, as the drops of water turned into a downpour. His legs wobbled and his heart pounded, as he stared at the mass of rumbling clouds above covering the sky.

“AALIK GET DOWN!” his father yelled. Lightning crackled and thunder boomed once more. Aalik dropped into the boat floor, closed his eyes and covered his head and ears. It helped little. The ocean became a cacophony of thunder, wind and crashing waves, ringing deep inside Aalik’s ears. He dared not open his eyes, being the only place where he remained safe and sheltered from the storm. What was all but a perfect day crumbled away at nature’s fickle whims and became a nightmare, one Aalik could not, and never did, escape. At least, until the storm suddenly ceased.

Aalik remained still. It was not out of fear however, but rather, disbelief.

“Aalik, Aalik! We’re here, we’re safe, we made it!” his father shouted and laughed with joy.

Aalik’s disbelief faded with his father's words. He slowly opened his eyes and felt the sun’s warm rays caressing his face once again. He picked himself up and looked around. Much to his surprise, the sky was as blue as it had been moments before and his home of Fitcherdorf was closer than ever, less than a quarter of a mile away. Aalik laughed as his eyes began to well up, the nightmare was over.

“Well…that was an adventure,” Aalik’s father said while he kept on paddling the boat towards the village.

“No kidding. Mom’s gonna ground me till next summer when she hears about this,” Aalik responded, but soon after his relieved smile disappeared, for there was something wrong as he further stared into what he had thought to be his home.

The village was deserted. There were no boats, people or even the faintest signs of life and most importantly, his mother was not there waiting for them to arrive by the boardwalk. The pit in his stomach returned. Something was terribly wrong and this feeling only grew when his father’s sudden, erratic movements made him turn around.

“Dad?” Aalik asked, concernedly.

His father did not answer; he simply kept on paddling with a noticeable jerk to his motions and a vacant stare.

“…Dad, are you ok, where is everybody? Mom should be out there waiting for us by now!” Aalik pressured on.

Aalik’s father stopped rowing, but his hands and arms trembled, as if he were trying to keep himself from doing so.

Aalik grew distressed and approached his father with caution, now feeling out of place somewhere he once thought of as familiar. Before he could have gotten any closer, his father’s head began to shake uncontrollably along with the rest of his body. Aalik froze and stared, horrified.

Then, suddenly, his father stopped and turned to face him with a cracking neck turn. “…N…no,” his father answered with a hoarse, dried-up voice, as he began to shake his head with much difficulty, and making twice as much sickening noise.

Aalik flinched and fell into the boat floor. Not only did the change in his father’s voice startle him terribly, but also the sunken look in the man’s eyes, as well as the thinner, pale and almost paper-like skin.

After a moment of unease and silence, Aalik’s father began to paddle again, but this time he turned the boat around, back towards the open sea. The man’s bones and joints cracked and popped as he rowed, prompting Aalik to cover his ears and cry for him to stop. He did not listen.

Aalik looked back and saw the empty village becoming smaller and smaller, as his father pushed them away from it. Then, all went white and the deafening explosion of thunder that followed shook Aalik from the inside. As quickly as it had disappeared, the storm returned.

“DAD, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? TURN BACK!” Aalik screamed, as he tried to hold on to the mast while the waves slammed and tossed the boat around. His father kept on rowing.

A gust of wind struck them, ripping away the boat sail and nearly flipping them over into the savage waters. However, while this plummeted Aalik into an even greater state of fear and dread, his father was undeterred.

“WE HAVE TO TURN AROUND DAD!” Aalik yelled and pleaded, to no avail.

A lightning bolt struck the water mere feet away from them, sending a chilling surge of energy through Aalik’s skin.

“PLEASE, WE NEVER MADE IT BACK! PLEASE DAD, LISTEN TO ME!”

“NO!”

Upon hearing his father’s scolding, Aalik ceased his cries. The man’s voice was still weak and scratchy, but there was a definite sense of authority to it, one that Aalik knew left no room for debate.

“I NEVER MADE IT BACK!” his father shouted, sending Aalik into a catatonic state.

Memories coursed through Aalik’s mind, memories of that terrible day, of that fated moment where everything changed. He always dreamt of it being a nightmare; that everything would turn back to normal when he would wake, but it never did.

“BUT YOU DID!” Aalik’s father cried out as he pushed against the waves, ignoring the snapping of his arms and the deterioration of his being.

Water and tears mixed in Aalik’s face, for he knew this to be just that, a nightmare, a tormenting repetition of that very same day coming back to haunt him, and he could do nothing about it.

“AND YOU WILL AGAIN!” Aalik’s father yelled resolutely with a smile and tears of his own.

Aalik pretended not to hear and closed his eyes, keeping the tears at bay. His body went limp on the floor as he waited for the moment to come. He could feel the rising of the water in front of them, and did not need to see the colossal wave to picture it, as it was an image imprinted in his mind ever since that day.

Aalik felt the slow rise of the boat as the wave picked them up like a giant would a rag doll. His stomach tensed in anticipation, and unconsciously braced himself for what would come, despite having experienced the feeling countless times before.All it took was the blink of an eye for the ocean to swallow them whole, and with it, the world turned silent. There was no more.

Aalik screamed, coughed and gasped for breath. He was laying on a cold, dark floor, surrounded by an endless void and could not see farther than the tip of his own nose. After calming down, Aalik tried to piece together his foggy memory right before the nightmare, earning nothing but a splitting headache. He caressed his head and groaned, only to realize just how wet his hair was as was his face, his clothes and satchel.

At first Aalik pushed back the notion, but it slowly became harder and harder to do so. Soon his memory recovered and he could finally remember the moment when he crossed the wall’s threshold, beyond his own volition, when the void pulled him from every direction and the sun’s warmth, as he woke up to see his father’s face.

Aalik stood up, fighting back the pain and fatigue, and heard a familiar sound coming from his satchel, one that he had not heard for a long time. He immediately opened the bag and grabbed the compass inside of it, and though he could not see it amidst the total darkness, he could still feel and hear it perfectly well.

The lack of rust, its fine details no longer marred by the passage of time, and the unmistakable sound of its pointer moving around, all as it had been when he first laid his eyes on it, all those years ago. At that moment Aalik knew, it had been no dream. His eyes began welling up with tears and a quivering smile grew on his face.

His hiccups and sobs filled the pitch-black void, as he tightly held the compass close to his heart, fearing that it would disappear at any given time. His father’s voice resonated in his soul along with the movement of the compass pointer. Aalik cherished the memory, knowing it not to be an illusion.

**" _A-AROUND! ABOVE! EVERYWHERE!"_ **

Aalik heard the map’s shrieks and warnings, but he remained calm. He lifted his head and looked around. As he did, a shape from the corner of his eye caught his attention and so he sharply turned his head to face it.

It was humanoid, grey and completely still. It had empty, black holes for eyes and mouths and yet, somehow, it glared directly at him. Aalik felt the map shiver. Without warning, countless more of the shapes began to appear throughout the entirety of the void, some near, others far, but all with their eyeless visages focused on him, a boy lost in the void. The map kept on shrieking.

**" _EVERYWHERE! EVERYWHERE! EVERYWHER-"_ **

Aalik, unfazed, placed a protective hand over the satchel and ceased the map’s incessant worries. He closed his eyes and focused his mind, as he tightly gripped the compass on his chest. He pictured the bright sky and beaming sun, pictured the morning haul beside him and his father, and saw the vivid image of his mother waiting for him to arrive by the edge of the boardwalk.

The path became clear. Aalik moved forward, passing through the shapes without a care in the world, as if they did not even exist. The beings kept on bearing down their ghastly, eyeless stares, but it was for naught. Aalik paid them no mind. He knew his path. He had to move on.

* * *

The father gathered his pages and looked at the time. He grimaced. “Wow…I really went overboard this time huh? Let’s call it a day,” the father said with slight worry as he stood up. “Want me to leave the light on?”

“No thank you, I’m alright,” the son responded before letting out a stifled yawn.

The father squinted his eyes with mocking disbelief, before shifting back to a kinder look. “Let me know if you can’t go to sleep, I’ll vouch for you if your mother gets angry about it,” the father chuckled warmly.

The son smiled back as his eyelids began to droop and fall. “Goodnight dad.”

“Goodnight son.”


	19. Chapter 18: The Chain of Command

**Chapter 18: The Chain of Command**

There was nothing, nothing but the sound of Aalik’s footsteps as he walked through the void, following the ever-stronger call of the crystal. Long gone where the eye-less, mouthless shapes that sought him, though he never gave them much thought, no matter how much the map squirmed about it.

Eventually, the darkness receded, illuminated by the familiar light of luminescent crystals at the end of the tunnel. Aalik picked up the pace. He walked into an enormous chamber, filled with hundreds and hundreds of tunnel endings across its intricate, crystal-covered, maze-like walls. And not too far from him was an enormous, pitch-dark pit.

All of this mattered little to Aalik, for he knew exactly where to go, but the growing guilt of his missing friends kept him from going any further than the crystal commanded. He was at a standstill, struggling to divert himself from his path, in order to look for his companions, while being pulled against his will, by the same power that brought him there to begin with.

 _I’M…NOT…GOING…ANYWHERE…LET…ME…GO!_ Aalik screamed internally.

Such was his inner fight that he did not notice the scratching noise of metal over stone coming from one of the nearby tunnels. Fortunately for him, the map did.

_“GET DOWN!”_

Feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise, Aalik broke off his ongoing struggle and immediately dropped to the ground, dodging the razor sharp edge of a thrown dagger at the very last moment. The weapon bounced off harmlessly on the floor and fell directly into the pit. It never hit the ground.

“ _Oh,_ _I’ve been looking for you._ ”

Aalik recognized the voice, despite how twisted and broken it sounded. He quickly turned around and picked himself up. Atop one of the many passageways of the chamber was Flemming, along with three other soldiers. Out of the entire group, Flemming appeared to be the most collected, compared to his erratic, paranoiac underlings. Which was, of course, not saying much.

“Oh I do hope you can forgive me! My hand must’ve…slipped,” Flemming apologized mockingly with a trembling smirk.

“What happened to the rest of you?” Aalik asked unflinchingly.

Flemming’s eyes trailed off in an almost childish manner, as he thought of an answer. His smirk grew even wider, once he finally did. “Oh…I’m afraid I don’t know, perhaps they’re still running around these god forsaken tunnels, who knows really. Once I got past that…wall everything has been rather…spotty.”

Aalik remained silent and carefully analyzed his surroundings, while keeping a protective hand over the satchel.

Flemming snickered and shook his head with disapproval. “ _Tsk tsk,_ such lack of manners, then again what else to expect from the son of a drowned fisherman and a backwater _harlot._ ”

Aalik turned to face him, with a glare so intense Flemming found himself taken aback. If just for a moment. “No need to be so dramatic, it was just a slip of the tongue. Now, do be a nice little boy and don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” Flemming said with a chilling tone. “Hand over that little map of yours and we’ll all be on our merry way.”

Aalik remained silent. His sights were fixated on Flemming and his underlings, whom were slowly moving their hands towards the hilts of their sabers.

“My, frozen with fear aren’t you? That’s quite alright I was hoping to take it anyway…” Flemming made a shaky, approbatory hand gesture and the soldiers began to move down the rocky slope, brandishing their weapons as they did.

“Once I’m done with you I’ll be sure to make my way to the treasure first, after all, one must seize each and every opportunity in this, oh so capricious world of ours,” Flemming glowered before his eyes drifted away into a moony state, as if considering the infinite possibilities of his treacherous plot. “ _King Flemming,_ now I do love the sound of that…”

The soldiers tentatively approached Aalik, snarling and flaring their teeth, as if they were but beasts eyeing their prey. Aalik stood his ground and subtly grabbed an object from inside his satchel, with such expertise that none of the lunatics even noticed.

 _“Gut him!”_ Flemming ordered whimsically, his eyes still adrift his delusional imagination.

The soldiers jumped, but only one ran as he hit the ground. Despite their near animal-like behavior, the two other soldiers still held onto a tiny sense of self- preservation, and opted to stay behind, as to let their far-gone companion do the dirty work for them.

The crazed soldier roared and lunged at Aalik. Rage and joy mixed in the man’s gapped smile as he raised his blade, ready to mow down the boy in front of him. Only for him to feel the pinching pain of a hook deep inside his palate, followed by a sudden pull that sent a shot of searing pain throughout his entire body, causing him to drop his saber and clutch his face in agony as he fell.

Fueled by his fury, the soldier ripped apart the bloodied hook, tearing it from the fishing line, and laughed victoriously. However, his laughs soon became screams of pure terror, as he plunged into the eternal abyss below. Silence reigned as Flemming and his underlings stared at the scene, utterly dumbfounded.

Aalik on the other hand simply picked himself up and dusted off some dirt gained, from performing his maneuver. He grimaced at the sight of his broken fishing line, but threw it away nevertheless, and went back to facing the soldiers, with an almost taunting presence to him.

“KILL HIM!” Flemming fumed and flared his teeth.

The two remaining soldiers stood there unsure of what to do, having just seen what happened to their fallen comrade. That was, until the sight of Aalik’s faintly visible sneer let them loose like a pair of rabid hounds.

Aalik merely waited their approach, as he placed his hand inside the satchel once more. The course of action went through his mind, as the bloodthirsty soldiers ran towards him, using the map’s warnings as pointers to react accordingly to their assault.

The enraged lunatics were already mere steps away from him once they leapt, with their blades ready to strike. Right in cue, Aalik ducked and rolled out of the way, causing the two soldiers to tumble and fall into the pit. However, just as he was in the middle of his roll, the map shrieked, and a searing pain coursed through his leg.

“AAGH!”

Aalik fell to the ground, clutching and pressing his leg as it bled profusely. His eyes darted about until he saw a blood-covered dagger laying right beside him, dangerously close to the edge of the bottomless pit. Flemming’s crazed laughter and snickering taunted him from afar. Just as he painfully crawled and reached towards the dagger, the map’s warnings echoed in his mind once again.

It was then that the armored covered hands of the soldiers appeared from the edge of the pit, grabbing ahold of its rocky ledge. The two soldiers chuckled in a bestial manner, as they brought themselves up and just as Aalik was about to grab the dagger, one of them swiftly ran up to it and kicked it away, punting it into the bottomless depths. The soldier, chuckling, then placed his foot over Aalik’s chest, pressuring it ever so slowly as a mocking grin grew his face.

Fighting against the combined pain of his wounds and the soldiers crushing heel, Aalik reached out for his satchel, only to have it ripped away from him by the other soldier, who brutally stamped his arm, before throwing the bag away. As the sounds of torturous laughter and his growing wounds plagued him, Aalik felt defeat overpowering his sense of pain and rage. For all he had gone through, all he had to endure and suffer. It would all be for nothing.

The pain in Aalik’s chest ceased as a pair of sickening crunches resounded throughout the cavern walls and tunnels. His relief morphed into surprise, once he saw the bodies of the two soldiers slumping to the ground, their expressions frozen along with their wide-open eyes, and right besides each of their twisted heads, necks, and growing puddles of blood, where two large, blood-covered rocks.

“AALIK!”

Aalik turned around as soon as he heard the familiar voice, and jumped from joy as he saw Esben running from afar. “ESBE-” Aalik cried out, but immediately dropped down due the pain of his leg wound.

“STAY DOWN AALIK!” Esben yelled and heaved as he ran to his best efforts.

But much to Aalik’s dismay, the more ground Esben covered, the more he came to realize Esben’s terrible state, from an accumulation of wounds and a tumbling stride, to a paling, withering complexion.

“You _washed up has been_!” Flemming seethed, as he jumped down to the ground floor, saber ready in hand, and placed himself in the middle of Aalik, Esben and the thrown away satchel. “You wish to die so badly hmm? Well I cannot deny my charitable nature…so be it! I’ll grant you a painless, long overdue family reunion…just as I will with that little hooligan.”

Both Esben and Flemming stood still, watching one another, readying themselves for whomever made the first move, but every moment that passed weighed more and more on Esben’s diminishing health.

Seconds became an eternity for Aalik, who could do little else but watch, knowing that Flemming would sooner cut him down than allow him to get any closer to the satchel. So he waited, observing the standstill with racketing nerves.

_“DIE!”_

Flemming had made the first move. The enraged man roared and ran towards Esben in a frenetic charge, swinging his blade around, with as much dexterity as there was lunacy in his mind.

Aalik pleaded for Esben to get out of the way, but it was for naught, Esben stood his ground. He winced and closed his eyes, feeling the terrifying dread of anticipation, and opened them right away, once he heard the rattling sound of a bone-crunching blow.

Aalik flinched and ducked as Flemming’s sword flew right above him, falling and spinning into the bottomless pit in a perfect parabola. He turned back and gasped in shock. Esben had a gruesome, slashing wound on his right arm, one he pretended to ignore with little success, but Flemming had it much, much worse.

Flemming’s right hand and forearm where now all but a mockery of what they used to be, a sagging bag of meat holding shattered bones together, all clad in bent armor.

“ARGH…YOU…AGH!” Flemming howled with pain, glaring at his shattered arm before turning back to face Esben with vile intent “YOU WORTHLE-”

The rest of Flemming’s words never left his mouth. Esben had unleashed a punch so devastating on the commander’s face that even Aalik flinched at its ferocity, despite his deep hatred of Flemming. Now, what had been a pompous, raging lunatic was all but the pitiful sight of a man with half his face caved in, helmet included.

Flemming’s shouts and cackling became unintelligible blood ridden mutterings and blurbs, as his consciousness quickly seeped away, as did his life. He dropped knee first to the ground, all the while desperately trying to reach Esben with both of his quivering arms.

Esben frowned solemnly and shook his head, but just when he was about to leave the dying man behind to help Aalik, Flemming’s almost imperceptible grin froze him on the spot. 

Fueled and kept alive by the remainder of his hatred, Flemming swiftly grabbed and pushed his cloak, raising and throwing a dust cloud straight towards Esben’s eyes, blinding the man.

Esben had no time to react, not with his wounds and waning strength. He swung and swung, but all he struck at was air and dust. For a moment, all Esben could hear were his fists, the flapping of Flemming’s cloak and Aalik’s desperate screams and crawls. Until the characteristic unsheathing of a sword rang in his ears.

“ESBEN!” Aalik wailed to no avail.

Esben cried out with pain as he felt Flemming’s hidden sword strike him directly in the chest, and once Flemming drew the blade out, he tumbled and fell to the ground.

Aalik stopped screaming. His face became white with disbelief as he saw not only his mortally wounded friend, but also the sword Flemming used to deal the deadly blow. It was Inigo’s sword, held and tainted by Flemming’s hands.

Flemming’s dying, inhumane laughter filled the chamber, and in one last burst of energy, he sprinted towards Aalik, showing as much glee as one possibly could with a shattered, twisted visage. Aalik could not make it to the satchel in time, not with a crawl, nor with a jump. Flemming was a step away, as was death’s inevitable door.

Flemming cackled and raised the sword for his final strike, but it never came. His shriek stopped and became a muted, chocking gasp; and just like that, Flemming fell dead, finally letting go of Inigo’s sword.

Aalik dared not move as he stared at the body, and the dagger stuck right in the back of Flemming’s neck. His eyes immediately followed the trajectory of the attack and came upon the approaching shape of an armored clad man, walking out of one of the many tunnels. A man Esben soon recognized.

“Well I’ll be damned, to think you of all people would act against a superior.” Esben laughed weakly, coughing copious amounts of blood as he did. ”That’s one more off the bucket list.”

“Commander,” the man saluted with utmost respect and sobriety.

All that cordiality that meant little to Aalik however, for he crawled as fast as he could and placed himself between his friend and the stranger, protecting Esben with the ferocity of a cornered animal. “Don’t come any closer, I’m warning you!” Aalik snarled and shot a vindictive glare at the stranger.

The man did not react at all to Aalik’s threat, rather he simply knelt down and ripped off a part of his cloak, fashioning a makeshift gauze. However, as soon as he got near Aalik, the boy flinched and crawled away, showing utter disdain of his aid.

“Aalik!” Esben scolded, before heaving from the effort. “He’ll do us no harm, won’t you Gudmand?”

Aalik collected himself and looked straight into Gudmand’s eyes. Esben’s words rang true. There was no hidden treachery, no doubt, nor deceit. It was an earnest fire born and tested by the trails of combat and war, a fire of Aalik knew and trusted, just as he knew Inigo and Esben’s.

“I will not strike down a man without weapons,” Gudmand stated calmly and without skipping a beat, reinforcing his iron-willed gaze. However, just as he was about to treat Aalik’s wound the boy retreated once more, showing a look of indignation.

“You…you were there all along weren’t you,” Aalik whispered spitefully, his voice cracking with emotion as he went on. “Why...why didn’t you help him…why? What’s wrong with you!”

“The sound of the ordeal alerted me from the depths of the tunnels. I arrived as soon as Flemming struck you, but when I saw the commander coming to your aid, I knew I could not interfere, not as long as he could still fight,” the man responded unblinkingly, before frowning in a resolute manner. “A warrior’s death is not to be trifled with.”

“ _Shut up_ ,” Aalik seethed and stood up, as if the grievous wound on his leg did not exist at all. “IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!”

“AALIK!”

Esben’s domineering shout surprised Aalik, swiftly dousing his growing temper, and had Gudmand not been as experienced when it came to this type of scolding, he too would have been taken aback just as well.

“You need to stop _yapping_ and get with it,” Esben scolded Aalik, his voice fading with every breath. “I’m a goner and there ain’t no way around that.”

“No…no Esben, I’ll…w-we’ll pick you up, we’ll find Inigo and I’ll-” Aalik stammered, until Esben firm grasp on his shoulder stopped his choked words.

“Listen to me,” Esben whispered, tightening his grip. Aalik sniffed and nodded, allowing Esben to continue.

“Now I don’t know why you would, but if you need to weep for me, you can do it all you’d like, but only when you’ve come back home to your mother,” Esben whispered, and for a moment, his eyes trailed off and his face became forlorn and wistful. “I’ve lost much over the years, and there’s not a day I don’t regret and wish for things to have been different, for me to have been there, to change things…but I’ll never be. What was is and always will be, but…at least….I’m glad, I’m glad that I was able to make a difference now, thank you Aalik.”

Esben’s grip and breathing grew weaker and thinner with every word, drawing further tears out of Aalik’s eyes.

“You’re a brave kid Aalik, I know you can do it,” Esben smiled warmly, before letting go of Aalik’s shoulder, closing his eyes and slumping back into the ground, the rising of his chest now barely visible.

Howwever, before Aalik could have reached out for Esben, Gudmand quickly bandaged and pressured Aalik’s leg wound, earning a look of resentful disapproval from the boy. It did not last for long however, for Aalik’s sadness soon overcame his anger.

Gudmand, nodding solemnly, stood up and picked up Inigo’s sword, before ripping off its sheath off Flemming’s belt and cleaning the blood off its blade with his own cloak. “I’ll watch over commander Esben, but you must leave now, for time grows thin,” Gudmand said, sheathing back Inigo’s sword as he walked up to Aalik. “Use this for support, were your leg to fail. Give it to its rightful owner when you find him. I trust he still lives, his will is not to be underestimated.”

Without a word, Aalik took the sword and made his way to his satchel, swiftly knotting its broken shoulder strap and placing it back over his shoulder. The pulsating presence of the crystal became even louder as soon as he grazed the leather of the bag, but he gave it little thought.

With every step towards the leading path, Aalik’s heart panged with guilt and sorrow, but he dared not look back, as he knew it to be a futile effort, which would only pain him further. And so, he soldiered on, following the command of the magical crystal beyond, while the hardships of his journey weighed ever more on his shoulders.

Gudmand stared into the abyss as Aalik disappeared in one of its countless tunnels. After a moment of total silence, a look of remorse cracked his steely visage. He frowned, closed his eyes and tightly gripped the hilt of his blade, only for Esben’s dying whispers to stop him as he did.

“… _Gudmand_ …”

Wasting no movement, Gudmand let go of his sword and knelt right besides Esben, nodding at his former commander with a sense of respect and wistfulness. Surprise showed in Gudmand’s eyes as Esben suddenly grabbed the neck opening of his armor and pulled him with ease, all the while wearing an intimidating scowl, one Gudmand knew full well, earning a fleeting wave of nostalgia from the man.

“Listen to me Gudmand and you listen good,” Esben whispered threateningly. Gudmand nodded deeply.

“You will not let anything happen to him,” Esben commanded, raising his voice as if death’s door was not but a step away. “You understand me!”

“Yes,” Gudmand responded with undying reverence.

Esben loosened his grip for the last time, and stared blankly into the crystal-covered roof above, as he took in his final breaths.

“It was an honor serving you…Commander,” Gudmand said, his almost imperceptible, uneven tone betraying his waning stoicism.

Esben smiled and shook his head. “No…thank you.”


	20. Chapter 19: The Crystal's Calling

**Chapter 19: The Crystal's Calling**

Aalik was getting close, he could feel it. The pulsating call of the crystal was now all but unbearable to his weary mind, its wails becoming a cacophony of otherworldly, hungry voices that would have most surely sent shivers down anyone’s spine. They spoke not one language Aalik could recognize, but they all sang in perfect harmony, a melody of unspeakable joy and desire not meant for the ears of men.

But Aalik pushed all those fears aside and followed the trail insidiously set out for him, unafraid of what was beyond. He had to reach his destination, he had to make this journey and his friend’s efforts matter. However, just as Aalik began to hear the far-off sounds of a snowstorm coming from the end of the tunnels, something else caught his attention.

It was a trail of blood flowing from one of the tunnels many branching paths, glistening through the darkness, as well as the sound of low, heavy breathing. Aalik broke off the path and ran towards the source of the sound, using Inigo’s sheathed sword as support for his injured leg.

Bodies of soldiers lay sprawling over the rocky floor, each one adding to the trickle of maroon beneath Aalik’s feet, and besides them was Inigo, slumped over the tunnel wall, holding onto one of the dead soldier’s bloodied sabers, the rising of his chest barely visible.

“INIGO!” Aalik screamed as he stumbled his way to him. He knelt, grabbed and shook Inigo while calling out his name, earning no response from the wounded man. Aalik frowned, muttering in denial as the knot in his throat grew. That was, until Inigo groggily opened his eyes.

“It’s you,” Inigo whispered faintly, wearing the ghost of a smile, one that Aalik gladly returned tenfold before hastily showing Inigo his sword.

“…How…how did you,” Inigo asked with awe and disbelief as he took in the sight of his precious blade, only for him to shake his head in order to collect himself. “Where…where’s Esben?”

But Inigo’s question died out as soon as he saw Aalik’s forlorn face, traced heavily with guilt and sorrow. It told him all he needed to know. There was a moment of silence between the two, as Inigo took in the unspoken demise of his friend, frowning deeply, before putting his grief on hold and gaining a look of undaunted resolve.

“Help me up,” Inigo said and Aalik complied. With much effort, Aalik and Inigo were soon standing side by side, using both swords, the tunnel’s wall and each other as support.

They moved on, led by Aalik’s ingrained directions towards the end of the caves. The path, though short in distance, forced them to draw from their innermost wills, in order to fight back the pain of their wounds and souls.

It did not take long before a foreboding green light shone at the end of the tunnel, flickering due to an incessant snowstorm outside. The bone-chilling winds could be heard and felt, even from within the tunnels, and the closer Aalik and Inigo got to the end the more their bodies violently protested against it.But they paid the cold no heed, for nothing would deter them.

Darkness, snow and lightning overpowered Aalik and Inigo’s senses, leaving only the sight of the green glow of the spinning crystal hovering above the crater-like mountaintop, glowing ever brighter with each step they took towards it. Their life slipped away the farther they went, but the thrall of sleep would not capture them, they were mere steps away from of their goal, and that alone was enough to keep them going.

Soon, their efforts bore fruit. They were at the entrance of the mountaintop and right before them was the clear image of the gigantic spinning crystal, shining with its unnatural green light, which pierced through the shadows of the eternal blizzard.

Inigo held back a twinge of fear as they neared the massive object, feeling its insidious energy crawl deep inside his skin, but his dread came back again just as easily, when Aalik froze on the spot.

**_“BEHIND YOU. BEHIND YOU. BEHIND YOU!”_ **

Aalik tried to scream out in rage when he heard the map’s warning and the sound of tensing bowstrings, but he found no strength to do so. It had all slipped away by now. All he could do was look back at the approaching soldiers, their longbows nocked and ready. They showed no signs of wear outside of their manic dispositions, harkening him back to the jarring, uneven state of Flemming and his underlings back at the tunnels. However, out of all of them, one remained unchanged.

The King stood unflinching in the face of the terrible weather. He walked a leisurely stroll towards Aalik and Inigo, all the while gazing at the crystal in complete and utter admiration, as if facing the meaning of life itself. Then, in one blinding flash of lightning, the King was now facing straight towards Aalik and Inigo, bearing his inhumane sights at them, betraying any form of emotion but that of the cold itself.

The King stood beneath the crystal as he held and analyzed the squirming map, admiring its every detail, before lowering it to give Aalik and Inigo a look of twisted gratitude.

Inigo struggled and huffed in defiance but it was for naught, the remainder of the King’s army had him and Aalik fully disarmed and pinned down on the snow, many of which ignored the mortal wounds dealt by his own hand. The fact that the King had commanded the soldiers not to kill him and Aalik outright, but rather to restrain them, as to view the momentous occasion, only added insult to injury.

Aalik did not struggle against the soldier’s hold however, opting instead to channel all of his hatred at the King in one stone-cold glare.

These reactions earned little more than an emotionless head tilt from the King, who simply turned around and became lost in the spinning crystal above him once again, admiring its erratic release of energy as it prickled his skin. “It’s beautiful is it not? Words do not make it justice,” the King reveled, his voice unobstructed thanks to the crystal’s aura repelling the snowfall of the mountain peaks. “I must thank you all. Your efforts shall not be in vain.”

In one swift motion, the King released the map and threw off his gauntlets, allowing the parchment to float, encased by the crystal’s energy and revealing something horrifying to Aalik and Inigo’s eyes. There were grotesque markings all over the King’s arms, their scar-ridden designs echoing Aalik and Inigo to memories of the indecipherable hieroglyphs, from the underground city.

The markings were as much wounds as they were runes, festering and tortuous ones that would never heal, but to the King, they were merely stepping stones, no more bothersome than a scratch. With his smile ever-present, the King began to speak.

It was a tongue unknown to all but himself and Aalik, and Aalik only recognized it vaguely. It was almost identical to the melody of the crystal’s voices, a melody beyond comprehension, a melody that wronged life itself. In cue to the King’s unfathomable words, the crystal’s spin slowed to a crawl and its luster became dim glow, but this façade of tranquility did little to appease the map’s cries of terror, cries that Aalik heard perfectly, a terror he felt down to the marrow.

The King smiled. In a flash of unspeakable might, the crystal resumed its spin and unleashed a barrage of devastating bolts over the parchment, its agony shared by Aalik during seconds akin to millennia.

However, Aalik did not give in, not a scream came out of him. He endured the process until the map was no more, fully consumed by the monstrous crystal, until it would eventually reform and realize its unending task, as it had countless times before. Then, suddenly, the crystal began to rumble violently, as if in protest, sending further bolts of energy all over the peaks. A stray beam instantly carbonized many of the King’s men, though unfortunately, none that were restraining Aalik and Inigo, nor the King himself.

“It appears that my sacrifice is not enough,” the King stated, never taking his eyes off the crystal, his icy stoicism nearly betrayed by his contempt. “Bring me the boy.”

The soldiers obeyed and lifted Aalik off the ground, ignoring his meager struggles to break free of their hold, as they took him to their King.

“LET HIM GO!” Inigo roared, shaking with such ferocity that he nearly toppled one of the soldiers pinning him down. However, this act of defiance was short lived, as was his burst of adrenaline, for they easily pinned him down again on the snow-covered floor. Inigo watched, powerless, as Aalik was taken away. Failure overcame the sheer cold of the mountain, dousing the flame of his soul, for what he knew to be the last time.

Aalik, who was still trying to free himself of the grasp of his captors, shot a look of pure hatred at the King, who calmly returned it with an earnest, inhumane smile.

“Rejoice for you are most apt. It is by your hand that this kingdom will be reborn. From ages to come, your tale shall be remembered, your sacrifice honored, and yourself canonized,” the King proclaimed with utmost formality, as if performing a knighting of the highest honor.

The crystal boomed in cue to the King’s words, its reverberating wave the mockery of a heartbeat. Aalik ceased his struggles as an orb of lightning appeared in front of him.

“Rejoice, for your journey will not be meaningless. It is because of you that this forsaken land will be reborn. No more shall we suffer through nature’s fickle whims, no more shall we stand by menial catches and living as mercenary dogs, of other prosperous kingdoms, no longer shall our _stunted legacy_ drag us down!” the King stated in a crescendo of emotion, displaying more anger and distaste the more he went along.

The crystal pulsated in quicker succession. Aalik felt the caress of sleep as the sphere vaporized the soldiers holding him, before it lifted him off the snow with its grotesque energy.

“Rejoice my people, a king of flesh and unrealized ambition you shall endure no longer, for I will become much, _much_ more.”

The crystal called and Aalik moved no more, allowing the sphere to engulf him entirely. Inigo screamed.

“Fear not the claim of death young man, for the life it will bring.” The world stopped and all became silent. Then, the crystal roared. Mightier than any thunderstorm to have ravaged the earth since its inception, the crystal’s booming energy ran through hundreds of thousands of miles, reaching the skies of all corners of the globe. It left behind an awe-inspiring image, now ingrained in the minds of men, for ages to come.

 ** _“CRYSTAL OF POWER! I BESEECH THEE!”_** the King roared, his voice now one with the crystal, as its energy flowed through him.

Lightning crackled.

**_“GRANT ME THE POWER TO MAKE A KINGDOM MOST GRAND!”_ **

Thunder rumbled.

**_“A KINGDOM WITH NO ILL, NO FAMINE NOR COLD! A KINGDOM FIT FOR THE KING OF ALL KINGS!”_ **

The heavens split.

**_“A KINGDOM FIT FOR ME!”_ **


	21. Chapter 20: Duel

**Chapter 20: Duel**

The wave of the crystal’s power moved across the land, encasing it with its supernatural energy. It flowed from every blade of wilted grass to every acre of dry soil, invigorating it all as it went by, and much to his maddening glee, the King could feel it, all of it.

Years of research, rites and spilled blood had proven their worth; he could see the vision clear in his mind’s eye. A dream come to life, a kingdom reborn, and it would all soon be his to command, bent and bound to his being and image.

However, unbeknownst to the entranced King, Inigo too felt this surge of power coursing through his veins. His wounds and fatigue began to seal and fade away, and though it was not an immediate effect, nor was the heinous touch of the crystal’s magic comfortable whatsoever, it was more than enough. No longer was his strength a flicker, nor was his spirit dampened by the idea of failure, only rage existed inside of him, building up as he stared at Aalik’s unconscious, floating shape contorting erratically inside of the magical orb.

The soldier pinning him down did not see it coming. Surprised and pushed by Inigo’s sudden, violent roll, the soldier tumbled and fell to ground. The last thing the man saw was the blackness of the split sky, tinted green by the crystal’s magic, before feeling the blade, of his own stolen saber, slice clean through his neck.

The soldiers closest Inigo wasted no time hastily drawing their swords, as they tried to overrun the lone swordsman, but as soon as they attempted to strike him down, Inigo had already cut through them in a single, swift motion. However, just as Inigo was in the middle of finishing his spinning maneuver, the sounds of tensing bowstrings rang in his ears, prompting him to loosen his stance and hold a breath of anticipation.

Arrows flew and fell, prey to a parry beyond compare. The last few longbow men trembled at the sight, what remained of their fearful humanity unearthing. Such was their fear, that they fumbled the reloading of their bows while Inigo rushed towards them, as inclement and merciless like the blizzard itself. They fell as unceremoniously as their arrows, painting the snow red with their blood.

Inigo stood surrounded by the bodies of the fallen soldiers, glaring intensely at the King with tangible, murderous intent.

The King laughed in response to Inigo’s threat, his reverberating amusement shaking the earth in the same manner as the crystal’s thrumming pulse.

The malignant wave sent prickles through Inigo’s skin as instinctual fear clashed with rage, but he did not waver.

The King smiled earnestly. **_“Marvelous, splendid, simply enchanting_ _!_ _Truly, your character and showmanship knows no bounds swordsman!”_ **The King proclaimed; his voice now joined by countless, spectral others as he spoke and released further ripples of the foul energy.

Inigo walked forth, unintimidated by the King’s display, as well as the crystal’s grotesque aura.

Amused by Inigo’s approach, the King merely waited, before a sense of recognition showed in his glowing eyes. He turned his head towards the entrance of the mountaintop and smiled expectantly. **_“Wouldn’t you agree Gudmand?”_**

Inigo stopped and turned back. The scars in Inigo’s face burned, as he recognized the shape of the armored man walking from the snow-covered shadows, just beyond the mountaintop. Memories of defeat came back to him like whiplash, strengthening his grip on the saber.

Gudmand’s face was blank and impassive compared to Inigo’s, but his sword was drawn and prepared, a request Inigo wasted no time to fulfill.

Inigo tossed the stolen saber away and sprinted towards his real sword, which lay amongst the many sprawling bodies in the snow, and in one fluid motion, picked up, unsheathed and brandished his weapon, before pointing it directly at his opponent.

Gudmand showed no reaction. He stood still, waiting.

Inigo rushed in, raining down on Gudmand with a series of ferocious strikes, each movement and swing of the blade a masterful vision of death, guided and fueled by Inigo’s boundless rage. Gudmand met the assault head-on, dodging eternity’s grasp at every turn with his own set of flawless parries and counters. It was a seamless dance of steel against steel, where neither of the two masters could out-match the other, for they did so in unison.

Their clashing emotions were but guises, sides of the same coin put against the odds of causality, but their wills were as equal as their strikes were true. It was then, at that moment of a simultaneous, cancelled counter, that Inigo broke through his own blinding fury and Gudmand’s mask, allowing him to see the fire in his opponent’s eyes.

It was a fire that revealed not only the complete and total admiration of his adversary, but also a genuine sense of camaraderie and unity, one that could only be born and proven in a time of great need. A fire that re-ignited his own.

What followed was an unspoken agreement between the two warriors as they ceased their battle and transitioned into a calculated dance, a performance capable of entrapping those trained in the art of the sword just as well as the common folk, as if it were a genuine series of questions and answers, far beyond the reaches of imagination.

And what a show it was for the King! His grin was wide from eye to eye, observing every immaculate detail of this once in a lifetime experience, seconded only by the nearing dawn of his coming era. In fact, his power-ridden confidence and enrapture were such that he paid no heed to the voices of the crystal, calling out to him with every side step and exchange of blows, which masked the near- imperceptible movement of the swordsmen, as they shuffled their way towards him.

This was truly a sight to behold and take in! His finest warrior clashing with an equal, all for his sake and his alone. Ironically, his late father had proven of more worth than just that of a worthless, flesh sacrifice, meant to fulfill a now pointless rite that marked his entire body.

By allowing skill to rise above rank in the search of military might, the late monarch had unknowingly given his son a memory he would treasure for eons to come, during the forthcoming of his new age. The King, now fully lost in this hypnotic dance of blades, silently commended the two combatants for their skill in awe, for he found no words to be fitting.

It was at that moment of profound immersion, where one’s notion of time and place lessens, that Inigo and Gudmand began their final act. They struck with excessive, resounding force, as to repel each other back a fair distance. The King applauded.

Their fierce gazes met at the standstill, feigning a rivalry that had already ended. The King clamored.

Their blades and stances flowed and weaved, building the anticipation of the exchange that would ultimately decide the victor. The King encored.

And so they did, by striking directly at his heart.


	22. Chapter 21: The Ritual of Ages

**Chapter 21: The Ritual of Ages**

The King shrieked in agony, as Inigo and Gudmand prodded their blades deep inside his chest, thanks to one of the many openings of his highly elaborate and ornamental armor. His spectral howls rumbled the ground as bolts of energy shot out of his wound, while the crystal itself, in symbiotic unison, spun and shook violently, its magical power flickering, as if its life were too seeping away.

In tandem to the King and the crystal’s collapse, the floating orb of that held Aalik’s unconscious body grew equally unstable, until it finally phased away into nothingness, throwing the boy back into the snow.

Motivated by the sight of Aalik’s freed, breathing shape lying behind them, Inigo and Gudmand let out a sonorous war cry and pushed their blades forward with all their might, determined to end the King’s life once and for all. However, they could go no further.

They stared aghast at their immobilized arms, now restrained by the King’s monstrous grip. Their horror grew not only as they realized the speed of the King’s grapple, or his newfound, inhumane strength, but the vision of the man himself.

Crystal grew out of the King’s skin and armor, protruding like exposed, luminescent bone. It crept like mold, starting from the King’s extremities and spreading towards his torso, slowly turning him into one with the crystal itself, but worst of all, were his eyes.

A shiver ran up Inigo and Gudmand’s spines, as they looked into the King’s glowing, green voids, shining a light not mean for human eyes, complemented by his sickening, teeth-flashing smile, smeared by putrid, green blood.

The King screamed; his echoing voice joined in by countless spectral others, and with the mere flick of his wrist he sent Inigo and Gudmand flying, back towards the entrance of the mountaintop.

The two swordsmen flew, staggered by the King’s display of power, but as they fell over the snow- covered floor and looked back to see the King’s lumbering shape going towards Aalik, their courage won out. They leapt and sprinted as fast as they could, crying out in defiance in order to capture the King’s attention.

The King shifted his sights away from Aalik, whom he could have sworn had shifted sides, despite the boy’s apparent unconsciousness, and turned to face the two swordsmen coming at him. His bloodied smile faded away, now replaced by a look of disdain at the utter insolence of the two warriors that dared to raise their blades against him.

 _ **“DIE!”** _The King roared, aiming his arms directly at Inigo and Gudmand, before they extended at lightning fast speeds.

To the King’s unending frustration however, the two swordsmen managed to roll out of harm’s way at the very last moment, causing his skewering limbs to plow through the snow and sink into the rocky mountain floor. The King shot a glare of contempt at Inigo and Gudmand with his horrifying eyes, but it was pointless. He found no fear in the two as they closed in and prepared to deliver the final blow. The King grunted, feeling both blades sink deeper into his chest and heart.

Inigo and Gudmand felt the taste of victory, for the King’s expression warped from pain to that of nothingness. This would not last. Horror and disbelief grew in their faces, for the crystal growing inside of the King kept death’s grasp away, repelling their blades back with ease. Then, the King recovered, his deathly grin in full effect, as he stared at them both, directly in the eye.

**_“BEGONE!”_ **

In cue to the King’s commanding words, several sharp crystals burst out of his ribcage, launching themselves at Inigo and Gudmand at incredible speeds. The two swordsmen reacted as best they could, jumping backwards with all their strength and putting their swords between them and the incoming spikes.

Inigo and Gudmand crashed into the snow, thrown away by the sheer power of the skewering crystals. They were battered and wounded, having only barely escaped death, despite the flawless quality of their parries and reflexes, and right by their side were their swords, both cracked in two.

The King laughed maniacally; his sense of pain dulled not only by the joy of trumping the swordsmen’s efforts, but also for witnessing their struggles as they tried to stand up to him once more. _ **“YOUR BRAVERY KNOWS NO BOUNDS, NOR DOES YOUR INSOLENCE!”**_ The King exclaimed, with such fervor that he failed to take notice of Aalik’s changed position, amongst the bodies of his fallen men, as well as the crystal’s foreboding hums.

His body grew to colossal proportions, bone snapping and flesh tearing as the creeping crystals left his head as the only remaining part of his dubious humanity. Inigo and Gudmand, unfazed by the King’s transformation and their open wounds, picked up their broken blades and readied themselves, the fire in their eyes still ablaze.

The King smiled daringly. **_“SO BE IT, COME! I SHALL GRANT YOU A WARRIOR’S DEATH!”_**

With a quick jerk, the King retracted back his crystallized arms to a manageable, yet still enormous, size, before swinging them at the two rushing swordsmen. He missed intentionally, leaving his face exposed and within reach.

Inigo and Gudmand took aim, and bait, only to fall prey to the King’s inescapable hold, as his hands rapidly retracted and caught them in midair. The King held them close, enough to see them furiously trying to slash away at his face, but always falling short of a hair’s breadth.

He laughed mockingly, taking immense pleasure out of their futile efforts, before raising them further up into the air. _“ **LET THIS BE A LESSON FOR YOU, BRAVERY IS A VIRTUE TO BE ETERNALLY TESTED AGAINST THE FIRES OF DESTINY, BUT IN THE END DESTINY CLAIMS ALL!”** _The King proclaimed, tightening his grip as he went along.

The crystal floating besides him on the other hand, haphazardly continued the process of the ritual, realizing the futility of trying to reach the King in the middle of his speech.

**_“TO FACE WHAT WILL SOON BE DESTINY ITSELF, NOW THAT IS A VIRTUE THAT STANDS_ ** **_ABOVE ALL AND FOR THAT I ADMIRE YOU, IN SPITE OF YOUR INSOLENCE!”_ **

As the King’s crystallization began to encase his mouth, the floating crystal slowly but surely regained its lost momentum, its surging bolts of power deafening Inigo and Gudmand’s cries of pain.

**_“YOU SHALL BE HONORED FOR AGES TO COME THAT I ASSURE YOU, HEADSTRONG_ ** **_FOOLS AS YOU MAY BE!”_ **

Closer than ever in its race against time, the crystal drew more and more from its resurfacing well of power. Now only less than half of the King’s face remained, its efforts would not be for naught after all.

**_“REJOICE WARRIORS! REJOICE FOR THE DAWN OF A NEW ERA! REJOICE FOR MY_ ** **_REIGN! RE-”_ **

The King’s speech and life were cut short, much to the crystal’s horror, all thanks to the fishing spear that pierced clean through the man’s eye and skull. Inigo and Gudmand breathed out in relief as they fell to the snowy floor, now free of the King’s crushing grasp. They immediately turned back after landing, following the origin of the spear’s trajectory.

There they saw him, standing amongst the bodies of fallen soldiers, holding onto his tattered satchel and in a still very much-weakened state, not helped whatsoever by the sheer effort required of his spear throwing feat. Aalik looked at Inigo and Gudmand, giving them a small but victorious smile, before stumbling to his knees and dropping face first into the snow.

Inigo and Gudmand ran to his aid, their steps hastened by the feeling of prickling power building behind their backs, as the King’s standing corpse began to convulse, crack and glow uncontrollably. They picked up Aalik and dared not falter their pace, despite their grave injuries, for the crystal’s shriek of agony told them otherwise.

Inigo and Gudmand jumped as they shielded Aalik, narrowly evading the ensuing shockwave. Such was its might that it wiped away the eternal front of storm clouds that loomed over the mountains, before extending to every corner of the world. It was a calming vision, compared to the ominous release of power from before. It was no more different from a warm summer breeze, with a mystical all-encompassing undertone, caressing the earth as it passed on by.

The King and the crystal were no more, blown into dust and swept away by the remaining winds of the fading snowstorm. In their wake was a mark, a deep scar in the now snow-less center of the mountaintop. Like a splinter removed off a festering wound, a wound that could now heal, the world was at last relieved of its age-old burden.

As Aalik, Inigo and Gudmand opened their eyes and raised their heads, their harm and fatigue cleansed away by the parting wave, they witnessed the night sky above them.

Stars decorated the infinite canvas, twinkling like faraway fireflies in the comforting darkness, and covering it all like a luminescent mantle, was an aurora. Its beauty, far beyond the reaches of a mere description, did not only awe the three lone figures standing atop the mountain, but it sent them a message as clear as the sky above, one of gratitude and reassurance, one they understood.

After all, it took no words to tell.


	23. Chapter 22: Peace

**Chapter 22: Peace**

Three pairs of hands piled up a mound of rocks in the snow free mountaintop, burying a compass, a pair of broken blades and the now resting body of their late companion. Soon, their work was finished, and with it, the orange lining of the sunrise began to show itself in the horizon, signaling the dawn of a new day. The group stood silent, each one with their own set of unspoken emotions showing through their waning, stoic façades.

Inigo broke it first. “Am I to be apprehended still?” Inigo asked Gudmand, no doubt trying to add some levity to the unbearable calm, betrayed by the light wetness in his eyes.

“You could keep on with your life of piracy and never would I, or whatever becomes of the regime, turn an eye. Of that I will make sure of, mark my words,” Gudmand stated, with forced militaristic discipline.

“No need, I should have retired a long time ago anyway,” Inigo chuckled and sighed. “Guess now is as good a time as any.”

“It was an honor fighting with you Dread Pirate,” Gudmand bowed with reverence. “Inigo,” Inigo corrected with a small smile. Gudmand nodded respectfully.

Not long after the silence had reinstated itself, Aalik walked up to the mound and sighed deeply. “Aalik?” Inigo asked tentatively.

“…I still don’t think there’s much I can say,” Aalik whispered, before turning to face Gudmand. “You knew him well didn’t you?”

Gudmand remained quiet for a moment, his face forlorn as he tried to come up with the words he deemed most fitting. “I had nothing but my dirty clothes when we first met, but commander Esben saw more than my standing. He saw a promising trainee, a soldier, an equal and eventually...a friend…”

Gudmand closed his eyes to keep a semblance of composure, but the knot in his throat tightened with every passing moment.

“But who am I to be worthy of that title. His son fell in battle, his wife passed from grief, his life wasted away…and I could not do anything about it. No matter my skill, my honors or my rank, what is all that worth, when it is all useless?”

“No.”

Gudmand opened his eyes and looked at Aalik quizzically, as did Inigo, both taken aback by the boy’s brusque response.

“He must have wanted this for a long time,” Aalik explained, his eyes fixated on the burial site. “Somehow, I could always tell, even if I never knew…but I guess…I felt it too.”

Aalik paused and closed his eyes, growing accustomed to the sun’s warm light, after what seemed to be an eternity of darkness not too long ago. Inigo placed a supporting hand on Aalik’s shoulder, which the boy held tight.

“Wherever he is, he must be happy now,” Aalik said, his voice welling up with emotion.

Gudmand said nothing. He simply nodded, misty-eyed, and gave Aalik a bow, one meant for an equal. Aalik responded with a thin, sad smile, accepting the honor without a hint of pride.

The silence returned as they laid their eyes on Esben’s resting place, for one last time. Each one buried a part of their own, to be kept by earth, eternity and memory, and though they would still bear the weight for years to come, it was a compromise they had to make.

Wiping his tears, Aalik looked back and saw the mountains below. Illuminated by the revealing light, the peaks were now free of the deathly cold and the eternal grip of the supernatural. An open path was before him, no more different from the rocky shores of his home. It was time.

“Let’s go.”

* * *

The father flipped the last page of his stapled set and took a big sip of his coffee mug, downing it all in one go.

“So…that’s it?” his son asked whisperedly, rubbing and wiping his eyes as he held back a yawn.

“Goodness no, I still have to come up with the epilogue…I kind of forgot about that,” the father said sheepishly as he put the pages down. “What about you? You finally done with school?”

“I’ve still got one exam to go,” The son responded absentmindedly, finally letting go of the yawn he had been holding.

The father gave the clock a quick side-glance. “When is it?” he asked with feigned sternness and squinted eyes.

“Tomorrow.”

Another quick look.

“Did you study?”

“Nope.”

The father shook his head exaggeratedly with mock disappointment.

“C’mon dad It’s the last day of school,” the son whined and laughed lightly. “Besides who even flunks PE?”

A memory flashed in the man’s eyes. He began to snicker. Snickers became chuckles, which became chortles and soon after full-blown laughter. To his credit however, he did cover up his mouth, lest he wake up the neighbors, or worse, his wife.

“What? What is it?” The son asked, keeping his own chuckles down as well.

“Nothing, nothing,” The father said, catching his breath. “Just a story for another time…likely never.”

“Oh, come on!” The son grumbled, only to earn a quick hair ruffling.

“Its way past your bedtime. You know the drill, no ifs, no buts and no five more minutes, six hours from now,” the father responded, giving his son a small wink. “I’ll see if I can get it done before your mom drives you back home tomorrow.”

And with that, the father tucked in his son, picked up the papers, empty dinner plates and coffee mug and headed for the door. “Good luck tomorrow! You might just need it.”

“Right,” the son chuckled and smiled, before closing his eyes. “Night dad.”

The father turned off the light with his elbow. “Goodnight son.”


	24. Epilogue: Home

**Epilogue: Home**

The trip back home was a serene, quiet march, free of bumps and interruptions, a much welcome change for the weary group. They stopped little for rest or hunting for food, for the sight of buds and growth in the formerly dry ground and the warming breeze that swept across the land strengthened their steps and spirits, and animals ran aplenty for their bellies.

The sun shone brightly in what had been a forsaken wasteland, caressing all below with its nurturing light. It prompted life to rise again, against all odds, as it had countless times before, and that alone, was more powerful than any magic.

The village of Fitcherdorf welcomed them just as well. Cheers erupted as soon as they were within view, but quickly quieted when Aalik ran towards the inn. There, Norna received him sitting by the doorstep, wearing the kindest smile Aalik had ever seen from her, one that told him everything.

However, something else caught Aalik’s attention, putting a stop to his frantic sprint, and that was Norna herself. She had grown older, far beyond what he remembered, and though her kind presence shone through, her weakness and difficulty to move did not fall far behind, creating a sharp contrast that panged heavily at Aalik’s chest.

Before he could have voiced his worry, Norna eased his thoughts, telling him not to fret in the slightest, never once losing the warmth that exuded off her being. Norna then slowly opened the door and Aalik walked inside, but not before giving her a careful hug, which she happily returned with as much strength as she could muster.

Aalik went up to Aama’s room and stood there, frozen, his stomach a bottomless pit as a moment became eternity, but he had crossed the same pit many times before, and he would do it again. He opened the door and the pit was no more.

There she was, sitting in her bed, face filled with color as the daylight beamed over from her window. He slowly made his way to her, stuttering along the way as he tried to explain the why and the how of his departure, fumbling his scrambled words and apologies. He knew not where to start. Nothing came to him, nothing but blubbers and hiccups. He tightened his lips and gathered strength, but before he could have gone on with whatever he planned to say, his mother pulled him in and embraced him.

They held one another, as if the other had disappeared off the face of earth without warning. Aalik buried his face deep in Aama’s shoulder, letting his tears flow while she caressed his head, and there they remained for a while, even as Inigo, Gudmand and Norna walked in to witness the heartfelt reunion.

There was, of course, a bit of a scolding shortly after, but luckily for Aalik and Inigo, Norna managed to temper it beforehand, as soon as Aama began to plan for it. Not to say she had fully doused Aama’s fire, for even Gudmand found himself dragged into the monumental diatribe, much to his surprise and slight fear.

Once Aama had finally calmed down, she stood up and asked everyone to go help her at the kitchen. After all, what is a celebration without a feast?

The village joined in to help of course, even the incompetent town guard found themselves cooperating as well, much to everyone’s surprise. Though to be fair, Gudmand’s commands motivated them rather easily.

They ate, celebrated and sang. Each of the villagers gave their own share of their preserved goods, along with the spoils born from the recent upswing in fishing, harvest and wild catch, making for a meal of contrasts, remembering the hardships and welcoming the future.

Tales of the group’s travels where told and cemented as legends that night, even one occurred during the feast itself. Inigo demonstrated not only his awe-inspiring dexterity, under the effects of several bottles of wine, but also his raw determination, when he finally convinced Aama to join him for a dance.

Aalik on the other hand, found himself in the dire situation of having an excess of dance proposals from the village girls. Luckily, his mother came in just in time and gave much needed order to the whole ruckus. Unluckily for Aalik, it involved taking turns with every single one of them.

Time flew by. The people were entranced by a moment of happiness they so longed for and had almost forgotten could be possible, and they cherished it dearly, for that day and many a years to come.

Weeks passed and the news of the King’s demise quickly spread throughout the land, much to everyone’s unanimous joy. It did come with some initial struggles, as most power sinks tend to be, but in the end, everything was set and the people chose a sensible, if originally reluctant, regent. One that focused not on the lofty ideas of world conquer, but on furthering the land’s rebirth and its relationships with the outside.

Gudmand never took a mantle or a crown however, much to his councilor’s initial chagrin. He much rather preferred working the fields with the rest of the men and attending meetings with his comfortable farming clothes. Outrageous perhaps, but Gudmand’s hard working nature and equal treatment of his peers soon gained the approval and praise of the court, even if they still protested against his sporadic and more often than not, unwarned visits to Fitcherdorf.

With the country’s years of peace and growth, the Reus inn returned to its former glory, along with the rest of Fitcherdorf. Inigo stayed without giving it a second thought, retiring both from his pirate life and legacy namesake in order to become a permanent helper at the inn. Never did he pick up a sword, ever again.

Together with Aalik and Aama, the three not only recovered the establishment’s original luster, but they also cared for Norna during the winter of her years. It was the least they could do for her help, even if she insisted otherwise.

Many tears where shed when she passed, but she left in peace and with a smile on her face. She told her friends that she was glad to have lived long enough to see the dawn of a new era, and more importantly, the turning point of their lives.

The day after, with his mother’s obligatory blessing, Aalik went out on one of his fishing trips to clear his head. The now young man had not lost his touch whatsoever, earning prizes and songs to his name for his exploits, but he caught not a single minnow that day, nor the stolen goods from a shady looking ship sailing about.

Aalik glanced towards to the hidden scabbard and mask in his boat’s secret compartment. He gained both over time with Inigo’s tutelage. Gudmand himself was quick to voice his immediate approval of the idea, during one of his visits to the village, as well as giving Aalik his own pointers regarding sword fighting. Naturally, Aama feigned complete ignorance of the matter and expected Aalik to make no mention of it either, her blessing was enough of an approval as it was.

But, as much as Aalik relished on protecting the waters, from ruffians who tried to take advantage of the prosperity of his homeland, and the occasional hunt for treasure, now was not the time. He simply sat on his boat, staring at the wide blue horizon, listening to the seagulls, the waves and the wind.

The song of the sea always brought him peace, a calm to be lost in, and today was no different.

* * *

“Well, that’s it,” The father folded the recently printed page, placed it over the kitchen table and gained a pensive look. “Whole thing was kind of short now that I think about it.”

“Dad.”

“I should have given it a couple of more re-reads, see if I could have squeezed in more chapters…I don’t know, maybe even explain some of the magic more while I’m at it.”

“Dad.”

“Bet my grand dad would have cut off half of it anyway, he would have told it way better too that’s for sure-”

“Dad!”

“Yes?” the father asked, broken out of his self-critical trance.

“Your pizza’s getting get cold,” the son responded pointing at the now rigid pepperoni slice.

“He doesn’t mind cold pizza dear,” the boy’s mother commented absently, before taking a sip of her sugar less coffee and flipping through the pages of her neatly folded newspaper.

“That’s disgusting,” the son gagged.

“I have to agree, I never got him to quit on it. My life’s greatest regret,” the mother replied dryly, if with a hint of a playful jab to it.

“I can get it with you, but how can my own son say something so horrible?” the father mockingly lamented, before taking a big, exaggerated bite out of the cold, pepperoni slice.

“I enjoyed your story, didn’t I?” the son shot back.

The father nearly choked on the pizza and the mother almost spat out her coffee. They laughed profusely after composing themselves, and began to playfully lay blame on one another, for the origins of their son’s sharp wit.

“Dad?” the son asked, breaking his parent’s ongoing, non-discussion.

“Yeah?” the father responded as he wiped the remaining breadcrumbs off his face.

“Thank you.”

The boy’s parents looked at one another, and smiled at the heartfelt nature of his words.

The father ate the rest of the slice in one go and downed it with his extra sweetened coffee.

“No son, thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End.


End file.
